Scattering Grief
by thievinghippo
Summary: It is said one joy can scatter one hundred griefs. But after the destruction of the Reapers, there is hardly time for either as a new threat emerges, determined to make Shepard realize how much death a person can take.
1. The Six of Swords, Upright

_**The Six of Swords, Upright - **__A need for continuing effort and strength. Once one obstacle is surmounted another presents itself._

**March 2187 - Cape Canaveral, United North American States**

Wrex was late.

The krogan was supposed to be at her prefab five minutes ago. Sitting on the uncomfortable plastic chair, Shepard crossed her legs and brought up her omni-tool. She needed a distraction. They were supposed to be well on their way to a meeting with Primarch Victus, but instead she was alone in her tiny dwelling with too much damn time to think. And thinking led to only one thing.

Counting_. _Shepard shut her eyes, knowing that once the numbers started rolling in her head there was no stopping them.

Ninety-seven days since the Reapers had been destroyed.

Ninety-three days since she was found in the wreckage of the Citadel.

Sixty-four days since she woke from the coma and discovered the explosion caused complete hearing loss in both ears.

Twenty-nine days since she was released from the hospital.

Twelve days since the last major fight between the krogan and the rest of the damn planet.

Eight days since the Normandy should have run out of dextro rations.

_Garrus__…_

When they had rescued the students at Grissom Academy, James Vega laughed about David Archer's counting. But Shepard was an engineer. She _knew_ numbers. She understood them. There's a sense of peace in numbers, a reality that couldn't be denied. And as much as she would like to, there was no denying that there were only a certain number of dextro calories on board the Normandy to be consumed.

She closed her eyes tight. Why hadn't she bought more? Or pinched a couple of boxes of those high quality rations they found on Triginta Petra? Garrus had loved those, said they were so much better than the rations that were usually on the Normandy. But instead of keeping some for her own dextro crew, she delivered them all to the Citadel, pleased that she found yet another way to assist the war effort.

With a slap on her wrist, she closed her omni-tool interface. The battery was already running low, and she only had so many daily energy reserves allotted. Her hearing implants were controlled through her omni-tool; if it lost power, she lost her ability to hear. Though there were times, like now, when Shepard would turn the implants off completely and simply watch sky. It had been a long time since she lived planet side. She had forgotten how the sky was constantly changing.

She wondered where the Normandy was. Galactic comm systems had been up for a month now and there was no sign of her ship. No messages, no word from the QEC, nothing. Shepard refused to give up hope that they were alive out there, she would 'keep faith' as so many people had told her to do over the years, even if the Alliance made the decision to classify them as 'missing in action.' But even if the ship was still in one piece, nothing changed the fact that Tali and Garrus had no food to eat.

And if the Normandy wasn't found, in another month, the levo crew members would be out of food. The thought of her crew, her brave, loyal crew would live through the war only to starve to death…

No. She wouldn't go down that path. It was bad enough to keep thinking of Garrus with diminished shoulders, and an even trimmer waist, but she could not, she _would_ not, think of the rest of the crew in those same terms. They deserved better than that. Garrus, too, deserved better.

A sudden hand on her shoulder caused Shepard to look up, unholstering her pistol as she did so. Wrex stood at her side, lips moving, but she heard no sound.

"Sorry, Wrex, implants are off," Shepard said, raising a hand in apology. She quickly brought up the app on her omni-tool interface and turned the implants back on.

"Said I was sorry for being late," Wrex said, "but I'm not going to say it again. You're damn lucky you can turn the Council off on a whim, Shepard."

"I would never, ever do that, Wrex," Shepard said, standing up, stretching her arms over her head. Wrex chuckled. "Give me a minute, I want to go to the bathroom."

"Couldn't you take a piss before I got here?" Wrex asked.

Shepard started walking towards the tiny bathroom in her prefab. She was lucky to have one. The majority of prefabs had to share a communal bathroom with nearby neighbors. "You made me wait, now I'm making you wait. Haven't you ever heard that before? It's a power play."

"Stupid political bullshit," Shepard heard Wrex mutter under his breath as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

She quickly did her business then made the mistake of glancing in the mirror. The image in the mirror didn't look all that different from the one she saw before the war, not really. The third degree burns on the left side of her face and neck had healed nicely, though the pigment of the healed skin was slightly different than the rest of her face. The result was almost comical; a straight line from her hairline to her breastbone. There'd been some nerve damage, so there was less feeling in her neck. Shepard's hair was growing out. Her Cerberus implants grew her hair faster than normal, so her hair was already slightly longer than it had been when she was in command on the SR-1.

Her hair annoyed her; the waves were coming out in force and it wasn't quite long enough to put in a pony tail. She was so used to having a shaved head. But once Garrus had come aboard the Normandy after the Reapers invaded, he considered shaving her head _his _job. Sitting on the floor of her cabin with Garrus behind her on the couch, slowly and methodically dragging the razor across her scalp were some of most relaxing moments she had during the war. If the worst came to pass, she simply would never shave her head again.

"About damn time," Wrex said as Shepard emerged from the bathroom.

She shrugged as she picked up a few datapads. "Cold out there?"

"For a human? No. The sooner the relays are fixed the better," Wrex said.

"Three months to go, then you'll get home to your babies," Shepard said with a grin.

Wrex held up his hands immediately. "Don't even joke about that, Shepard. We've got two months before the eggs are supposed to hatch. Gonna be the longest month of my life."

"Supposed to?" Shepard said, pulling a jacket over her BDU. "Wrex, it's going to happen."

"We're changing the subject, Shepard," he said, opening up the door to her prefab. "Let's talk about how people are actually listening to me."

Shepard walked outside and let the sunshine warm her face. Originally, the Alliance wanted to set up an operations base in Vancouver. But being the middle of winter, it made more sense to settle closer to the equator. Especially when the leaders of the rest of the races planned on staying close by.

While Cape Canaveral was warm, there was still enough of a chill from the ocean to warrant a coat. Shepard wrapped her arms around her center, trying to ignore how her frame was still too slight. Everyone was rationing, her included. Until more suitable farm land was recovered, rations and genetically modified food was the entirety of her diet. At least she had food to eat, unlike some…

_Don__'t go down that road, Shepard, not now._

"The krogan finally getting in line?" Shepard asked as they walked towards the turian refugee camp. Around them, the city was a contradiction. On one side new prefabs were being constructed, while on the other a dead Harvester waited to be burned. The city smelled like burning bodies twenty-four hours a day. And unlike Garrus, it was a smell she could never get used to.

"Now that we're making them work for their food, yes," Wrex said gruffly. "I didn't want it to come to that, but if they have something to do, there'll be less fighting."

"Been almost two weeks since the last bout," Shepard said, putting her hands deep in her coat pockets. Up until two weeks ago, the krogan forces on Earth were restless. They wanted to fight, or better yet, mate, now that the genophage was cured and without easy access to either? They simply went out of their way looking for a fight. And with the other races just as unhappy being stuck on Earth, the krogan found some easily.

But then Wrex and Grunt came up with the idea that no krogan would be given their rations for the week unless they proved they worked. Since then, productivity soared across the planet. Krogan everywhere were helping on building sites, doing heavy construction, chopping up the empty shells of the Reapers to be put in cargo ships. Scuffles broke out now and then, but nothing like there was. Amazing how the promise of food could get people to work.

The turians guarding the refugee camp waved her and Wrex in without checking any credentials. "Should talk to the Primarch about that," Shepard muttered.

"If Victus wants to have lazy soldiers guard his camp, why should you care?" Wrex said.

Shepard looked around the camp, noting how organized it seemed compared to the human encampments. Not a single turian was laying about; each had a job, even the children, and they were doing that job proudly. Victus had told her they made a makeshift hierarchy specifically for all the turians on Earth, which numbered at more than a million, between the ones who managed to get off the Citadel and the ones stationed on ships which fought in the final battle.

The numbers started rolling in her head again. When the Reapers invaded, there had been approximately twelve billion humans on Earth. With the latest census data, there were only four billion now. Two out of three people on Earth were killed because of the Reapers. And more would die in the upcoming days. Almost every other day there were reports of suicides from those who had been unfortunate enough to be caught in the Reapers' enslavement camps. Indoctrination was common. With the Reapers gone, those indoctrinated felt they had no other choice but to die by their own hand.

_Eighty-three minutes inside a dead Reaper__…_

Shepard told the voice in her head to shut up. She made the choice to _destroy_ the Reapers; would that be the choice of someone indoctrinated?

"Glad you can be here for this, Shepard," Wrex rumbled.

"This might just work, Wrex. It could be the making of the krogan," Shepard said.

They entered one of the larger prefab units in the camp, the turian headquarters. One of the Primarch's aide stood up and saluted. "The Primarch's ready for you both." she said.

"Thank you," Shepard said.

They were led into a small room, with a long table and a few chairs as the only furniture. Primarch Adrien Victus stood at the end of the table, typing on his omni-tool. He closed it shut once they entered. "That'll be all, Yeoman," he told the aide.

The door closed behind them. Victus crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. "Have you given any thought to my proposal, Wrex?"

"I've given it a lot of thought," Wrex said. "Some of it good, some of it bad."

"Wrex," Shepard said, a note of warning in her voice.

"I'm not about to let the turians try to make the krogan a client race, like the volus or the prijians," Wrex said. "I need to know _exactly_ how the turian hierarchy will view the krogan."

Victus sighed. "I've explained it already, Wrex-"

"Explain it again."

"Wrex, you've seen the numbers," Shepard said softly.

More numbers. Sometimes she wondered if she'd ever escape them.

One of the first things the turian hierarchy did once the comms were functioning was to complete a census of its citizens. To say the numbers were disheartening was an understatement. Before the Reapers invaded, there were approximately seventeen billion turians scattered across the galaxy. Now there were only five billion. Worse was the population imbalance.

There had always been more male turians than female turians. Instead of an almost even split like humanity, there were generally fifty-eight percent male, forty-two percent female. The disparity explained why the asari were so popular among turian males. The Reapers changed those numbers. For the first time in their recorded history, there were more females than males.

"I'm supposed to care that the turians are less than half of what they were? So are the krogan. And the humans. Don't know about the asari, but they can reproduce with anyone, so who cares?" Wrex said. "The quarians are down at least one third their population and there weren't many of them to begin with."

"The galaxy needs ships," Victus said. "The turian hierarchy was fortunate in that regard. The majority of our ships are in working condition. What we need are bodies manning those ships."

"So you want my people," Wrex said, placing his hand down on the table.

"Yes," Victus said. "And we would train the krogan that serve on our ships. You're about to have a population boom, Wrex. But if all you're doing is raising your children to send them out to fight and be killed? What's the point? You need skilled workers. You need krogan with medical skills, with technical skills. And we will train them as long as you help patrol our borders."

Wrex placed a hand over his mouth and stared into the corner of room. "I'm not saying no," he said finally. "I'd like to talk this over with Bakara."

"Understood," Victus said. "Don't take too long to decide. If what I'm hearing is true, the relays should be up in a few months. I'd like to have this settled well before they go active. Maybe even start training."

"We'll talk more in a week," Wrex said, nodding his head. "Ready, Shepard?"

"Actually, I need to speak to the commander," Victus said.

Shepard tensed, wondering if Victus had heard something about the Normandy that hadn't reached her yet. "Certainly, Primarch," she said slowly.

"We'll talk later, Shepard," Wrex said, leaving the room.

Victus let out a breath and sat down in one of the plastic chairs. "That went better than expected."

"I think he'll agree," Shepard said, sitting across from Victus. "He has high hopes for his people, but you're right. The krogan need skills."

He ran his hand over his fringe. "And the turian hierarchy needs children." Victus leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. "It's only been three months and I think I have an idea how the krogan felt for all those years. Children are going to be our most important commodities, and Spirits, that'll be nothing compared to a female in her child bearing years. Imagine it will be the same for all the races."

"But at the same time," Shepard said, "there are a lot of kids out there that need a home."

"Funny, but before that final fight on Earth? I thought things would get easier once the Reapers were gone," Victus said with a bark of a laugh.

"You and me both, sir," Shepard said. She tapped her foot nervously, a habit she picked up in the last few months. "You wanted to talk to me?"

Victus nodded. His shoulders slumped as if a heavy weight was holding him down. "Is it true the Alliance has officially declared the Normandy to be MIA?" Victus asked.

Shepard closed her eyes and thought about her meeting with Admiral Hackett yesterday. He felt no choice but to declare the ship to be missing-in-action. If no word was heard for another three months, the crew would all be declared KIA.

"Yes," Shepard said with a sharp intake of breath. "It's true."

Victus bowed his head and folded his hands before him, looking like he was in prayer. He was a man devoted to the Spirits, perhaps he was. "Then I regret to inform you that Operative Garrus Vakarian will be declared killed in service." He looked up then and right into her eyes. "I considered him a good friend, by the end. I'm very sorry for your loss."

"But the Alliance classified them as MIA, not KIA," Shepard said, feeling her mouth dry up. She placed a hand on her throat; she needed to _breathe_. "I don't understand-"

"The turian military has no designation for MIA soldiers. You're either alive and fighting for the hierarchy or you're not," Victus said gently. "I've put this off as long as I could, but with the Alliance making that distinction, I don't have a choice."

Shepard stood up and breathed deeply. She would not fall apart in front of the Primarch. She wouldn't. "I see," she said finally.

"I understand from our correspondence that he intended on asking you to be his wife. Once things are less chaotic and I'm back on Palaven, I'll make sure you are given all the benefits of a top tier hierarchy member's widow," Victus said.

_Widow._

Shepard wished she could go back five seconds and turn off her aural implants so she didn't have to hear that word. She would have to get used to this; once the news of the Normandy's classification spread, more and more would want to send their condolences for her mate, for her crew. _Her family._

"Thank you," Shepard said after a moment, turning to look at Victus, but not quite in the eye. "Has there been any word from his family yet?" If Garrus was to be lost to her, she wanted to at least help his family, but there had been no sign of them. The last time Garrus heard from them they were on the way to the Citadel. She simply had to hope they never made it there and were somewhere else.

Victus shook his head. "If that changes, I'll let you know immediately."

She nodded her thanks. With nothing more to say, Shepard left the room. Thankfully, the hallway was empty and Shepard jogged out of the compound. Once outside, she broke out into a run until she left the turian camp altogether.

Placing her hands on her knees, Shepard took gulping breaths, forcing the air into her lungs. This was a shock she had not prepared for. How could anyone be prepared for this? Anger spiked and if she was a biotic, Shepard was sure she would have caused a great deal of damage due to her surge in emotion.

When her breathing was under control again, Shepard forced herself to be calm. The turians had rules and procedures they had to follow. That was their way of coping. She didn't have to agree. The numbers weren't in their favor, but it wasn't a hopeless case. Until then…

Shepard turned off her aural implants and looked to the sky. Tomorrow she was scheduled to meet with Hackett and then the Council. If Shepard thought she worked hard during the war, it was nothing compared to her efforts since she was released from the hospital.

It would be so easy to curl up in a ball and mourn for her lost love. But she wasn't ready. Until the numbers told her there was absolutely no hope, she would keep faith. And now?

There was work to be done.

9


	2. Judgment, Reversed

**Judgment -**_Ill Dignified or Reversed - Delay in concluding a series of actions. Lack of progress due to lack of important decision making. _

**One Month Later**

"Commander Shepard!"

Shepard waved from the opening of the small encampment but did not go inside. She watched the group of children in front of her playing 'Duck Duck Goose.' It was a varied group, half human, a few turian, young asari and even a tiny volus. They were laughing and smiling, seemingly pleased not to have to play alone.

Jenna walked up to Shepard just as a human boy tapped an asari on the head. The asari hopped up and tried to tag the human, but he was too fast. "Conrad went out to pick up some rations, he'll be so upset that he missed you."

The news that Conrad Verner was one of the almost five million that made it off of the Citadel after it transported to Earth made Shepard surprisingly happy when she discovered it. Though she would have rather not have learned by waking up after a nap in the hospital to find him staring at her. Perhaps living through yet another attack on the Citadel had hardened him; Conrad quickly asked the question in which he needed an answer, then told her to get some rest.

And then he was gone. Shepard had been half tempted to believe Conrad had been a vision from some left over pain medicine. But three days later, news that 'The Shepards' were taking in orphans of all species spread through Cape Canaveral. Now Conrad led a group of almost fifty volunteers watching over approximately five hundred children.

"I'll be here for a bit," Shepard said, watching the game continue.

The asari walked around the circle, patting everyone's head. When she got to the volus, she yelled, '"Goose!" To the volus' credit, he valiantly tried to get up and play, but by the time he took his first step, the asari was already sitting down. Shepard frowned; the volus didn't have a chance against the other races.

A turian girl stood up then and said, "Let's play that spinning and falling down game." The other children quickly agreed, and soon chants of 'Ring Around the Rosy' could be heard.

Her schedule didn't always allow it, but Shepard tried to get down the camp a few times a week. She would walk around, watch all the children of different races working and playing together and wonder if this was the future Garrus had hoped for them. Adopting a ragtag group of orphans and creating a family of their very own.

_Worried Daddy's rifle collection might scare Junior?_

He had broken their unspoken rule - _don't talk about the future_ - and now any hope which burned deep inside her was dangerously close to being snuffed out. Thirty-seven days since the rations would have run out. Shepard had spoken to a turian doctor a few weeks ago. He informed her that turians could go approximately thirty days without sustenance before death. A quarian physician told her that Tali would have a better chance. Quarians could last forty-five to sixty days without food.

The information still didn't change the numbers. They haunted her. At night, she would find herself doing the math in her head. If they started rationing after one month, they still might have some food. But if they waited and didn't ration enough… The numbers were the reason for the bags under her eyes and why well-meaning people told her_ you so look tired, you should rest more._

Shepard didn't want to rest. She wanted to be working, so she didn't have to think.

Jenna led her to a table where a group of young teenagers were all working on datapads. Conrad had tutors come in every day of the week, so that the children still had lessons and homework to do. Shepard occasionally liked to help the kids with math, which always had been her favorite subject.

The group had been laughing, but quickly shushed each other once they realized Shepard was approaching. "Hiya, commander," one brave salarian said.

Caelia, a turian girl in her early teens, maybe - it was hard to tell sometimes with turians - and Shepard hadn't wanted to ask, waved. The first time Shepard came to this camp, Caelia had caused her a bit of a shock. She wore the same colony markings as Garrus and in all the time Shepard had worked besides turians, she had never seen another with his markings. Making the mistake that the teenager must have been family, a cousin perhaps, Shepard had eagerly walked up to the girl and introduced herself.

The confused teen had no idea who Garrus was and Shepard quickly learned that similar colony markings does not a family make. Since then, Shepard saw her every time she visited the camp. Over time, Shepard had enough courage to ask about the story behind the markings, cursing she never found a moment to ask Garrus himself when she had the chance.

From Caelia, she discovered the markings represented a small neighborhood in Cipritine. When the colony wars broke out a thousand years ago, those turians living on Palaven decided to design their own markings. Major cities all had their own designs. And Cipritine? It was so densely populated the city took it a step further: each neighborhood had their own unique look.

"Hey there," she said to the group. Just as Shepard was about to sit down, her omni-tool buzzed, a priority message. "I need to take this."

She took a few steps away from the table and brought up her interface. There was a text message from Hackett. "Council wants to meet in an hour. Your presence could be vital. Stop by HQ first."

Shepard sighed. Since being released from the hospital she more or less had assume the role of humanity's representative to the Council. Politician was her least favorite job in the galaxy, and sadly one she had to don more and more often.

"Duty calls," Shepard told Jenna. "I'll try to get back tomorrow. Tell Conrad I say hi, okay?"

"Oh I will," Jenna said with a laugh. "He's going to be devastated he missed your visit."

"Hopefully next time," Shepard said.

While he might have hardened a bit, Conrad was still overawed and overeager when it came to anything Shepard and still absolutely desperate to please. But he was doing good work. The various camps didn't have the resources to look after all these children and someone had to.

One mystery Shepard hadn't been able to solve in the two months she'd been visiting was the relationship between Jenna and Conrad. Jenna was fiercely protective of him, but Shepard didn't sense there was any romantic feelings between the pair. It wasn't her place to ask. Thanks to her past dealings with Conrad there was a line she would prefer not to cross with him.

Shepard turned and walked quickly towards the Alliance Headquarters. The building was one of the few left standing in Cape Canaveral. Two hundred years ago it housed NASA's space program. For the last fifty, the Alliance used the space as a minor administrative office. Now it was the place where humanity fought tooth and nail to rise from the ashes.

Unlike the turian camp, which never bothered to check her credentials, the guards refused to budge until Shepard brought out the actual plastic card which had her name and picture. The Alliance took no chances with her identity, not since the incident on the Citadel. Maya Brooks had been killed during the last waves of battle and the main question on Shepard's mind - _were there others - _remained unanswered.

"Go on in," the young ensign said with a crisp salute. She looked so young; Shepard wondered how long she had actually been in the military or if she was a new recruit. The Alliance was desperate for any able men and women. Hackett had gone so far as to offer any human members of the Blue Suns, Eclipse or the Blood Pack stranded on Earth who could pass a drug test a career in the Alliance. A surprising number of them accepted. Shepard had to hope it wouldn't bite the Alliance in the ass some day.

It was a short walk from the gate to get inside the actual building. As she entered, people stopped and saluted. Shepard nodded, hoping that some day this treatment that she was special, somehow above them all, would stop. She liked to think she did what any proud member of the Alliance would have done in her shoes.

Another guard blocked entry into Hacket's office. "Sorry, ma'am," the guard said, an older gentleman with a Middle Eastern accent. "You know the drill."

"I do," Shepard said with a sigh, bringing out the ID card again. "Here you go."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Shepard nodded and opened the door. Hackett was sitting at a plan metal desk, hunched over a stack of datapads. He was wearing what Shepard considered to be the standard uniform for the Alliance now, regular BDUs, like she was wearing. Hackett hadn't worn dress blues in months. "Shepard," he said, standing up as she entered the room. He handed her a datapad. "We're about to get our asses chewed out by the Council."

"What for?" Shepard asked, looking down at the pad. She tried to skim the words, but there was simply too much information.

"We're in trouble, Shepard," Hackett said, running his hand over his face. "What do you remember about the Leviathan Enthrallment Team?"

She blew some air out of her lips. "Not much," she said honestly. "We took some of those artifacts. The goal was to use the Reaper's own troops against them."

"Exactly. If we had more time before the final battle, the Enthrallment Team could have caused a great deal of destruction."

"So what happened?" Shepard asked.

"The team was comprised of eight men and women of different races. I want you to know, Shepard, that Primarch Victus, Dalatrass Linron and at least three asari matriarchs knew of our plan and fully supported our efforts," Hackett said, taking a breath.

"Admiral," Shepard said, a knot of worry forming in her gut. She shivered slightly; her circulation was not what it should be yet.

"They've gone rogue, Shepard," Hackett said, the fist not holding the datapad curling on into itself. "Within the last week, there have been two murders across the galaxy and one attempted murder."

"Rogue?" Shepard asked, her eyes going wide. "Are you sure?"

"No," Hackett said, bowing his head. "And that's our problem."

"The Alliance had no business deploying a team and using these artifacts without sanction from the Council!" Councilor Valern crossed his arms over his chest and stared angrily over the table.

"The Alliance," Shepard said, leaning forward and resting her weight on her hands, "did the job that the Council should have. The job of coordinating the Crucible should not have fallen onto our shoulders. The Council should have been leading the charge. So we did what we had to do, including utilizing the Enthrallment Team."

There was a sense of satisfaction facing the Council in a plain prefab and not in the elaborate Council chambers, where they raised themselves above the rest. "If you dragged me in here to give you some sort of apology, let me tell you right now, it's not going to happen."

"The Council has a right-"

"Maybe if the Council allowed humanity to appoint a new Councilor after Udina was killed, you would have learned about the team," Shepard snapped. She took a breath and centered herself. Normally, she considered herself calm and collected, traits vital for an engineer with a specialty in explosives. Jerky or quick movements led to death. "It's been almost eight months since humanity has been represented on the Council. You gave us a seat, Councilors. I suggest you let us fill it."

"Humanity's status on the Council isn't the purpose of this meeting," Sparatus said.

"Our status? You say that as if it's a question," Shepard said, her voice low and close to dangerous.

"We are more concerned about these reports," Tevos said, putting her hands in front of her on the table. "There was an attempt on Aria T'Loak's life. A Matriarch was murdered."

Shepard looked down at her datapad at the names. "Grothan Pazness was also killed," she said sadly. "Along with any chance of peace with what's left of the batarians."

"Maybe," Valern said with a sniff, "if the asari had provided the information about the Catalyst earlier, we might not have needed the Enthrallment team at all."

"Don't you dare blame the asari," Tevos said angrily.

Shepard sighed. So it began. Always the same damn argument every time she stepped into this room.

"Think of what we could have done if the humans had allowed earlier access to the archives on Mars," Tevos said, narrowing her eyes. "We could have built the Crucible much sooner than we did."

Most of the time Shepard simply let the Councilors play out the scene, but today? With this news of the Enthrallment Team going rogue? Absolutely not. "Would it have made a damn difference?" Shepard said, pushing her hands off of the table. "If we let the asari in after The First Contact War and one of them found plans on the Crucible, would anything have changed?"

Tevos shrugged a shoulder. "Perhaps. We'll never know, will we?"

"No, we won't. All I know is talking to the regular folk out there, they have lost all confidence in the Council as leaders. Most people want to blame the asari for not pitching in earlier. The asari want to blame humanity." Shepard crossed her arms over her chest. "The turians look like bullies, for refusing to pitch in until the krogran helped them and the salarians look like traitors for trying to sabotage the genophage when they knew the turians needed the krogan's help."

Valern started to speak but Shepard cut him off. "Urdnot Bakara is a wise woman, Councilor. She's getting the people of the galaxy on the krogan's side. She's making sure that every single person in this galaxy know the role the krogan played in fighting this war. To ordinary folk? They hear the genophage was cured and then they went out and fought instead of staying home and having children. You want an example how upside down the galaxy is right now? The krogan are _winning_ the PR battle."

Once Shepard stopped talking, the silence overwhelmed the room. "Are you finished?" Sparatus said stiffly.

Shepard glanced down at the floor and closed her eyes briefly. She hadn't meant to go off like that. Felt damn good though. "Yes," she said, looking up at the Councilors. "We need to figure out what to do about the Enthrallment Team."

"Sounds simple enough," Tevos said with a wave of her hand. "From the reports, the culprits are in custody. The leader of this group is believed to be on Earth and we have the approximate locations of the other members."

"We'll have to locate leader of the team," Sparatus said. "I believe he is an acquaintance of yours?"

"Major Yuval Efron, we went through the N7 program together," Shepard said. He was a quiet man, a warrior poet, they called him, back during N7 training. The Efron she knew wouldn't be capable of going rogue. But N7 training was years ago. And he was also an Infiltrator, which made him very, very dangerous.

"We'll warn top level leaders in the areas to be on their guard. Until the relays are up and functioning again, there's not much to be done." Valern turned away from the table and placed his hands behind his back. "Might I add that I know Lieutenant Tolan and Commander Rentola from their outstanding work in the STG? I don't believe it possible they would cause any issues."

"I would say the same thing of Colonel Corinthus," Sparatus said, shaking his head. "She was last believed in the Apien Crest system. We'll be in contact with Palaven."

"If Efron is on Earth, I believe we all should take precautions," Shepard said. She hated putting herself in the same category as the Councilors, but Shepard was aware of her place in this galaxy.

"Agreed," Tevos said at once.

"So are there other programs that the Alliance failed to inform us about, or just the Enthrallment Team?" Valern asked. He waved a hand as he turned back to the group, indicating the other Councilors. "I believe I speak for all of us when I say we don't appreciate surprises."

"We have a candidate ready and able to sit in the open Councilor seat," Shepard shot back. "Say the word and humanity will happily do it's part."

"Funny, now you seem to want to work with us, when before you wanted everyone to work _for_ you," Tevos said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Or had you forgotten that already?"

_Why do I even bother…_

Sparatus and Valern started talking over each and Shepard stepped away from the table, not sure how much more she could take. The galaxy would never move forward if even the highest levels of government refused to stop playing the 'blame game,' herself included. As she was contemplating her next move, the door opened and an Alliance yeoman walked in.

The yeoman - always so damn young - handed Shepard a datapad. "Hackett said you need to read this straight away, ma'am."

"Thank you, Yeoman," Shepard said, wondering if any information Hackett could provide her would help them out of this absolute mess. She glanced down at the pad and felt throat constrict.

_Normandy's in system. Long range comms were damaged beyond repair. Should dock in approximately two hours. They've requested a turian and quarian doctor meet them at the docking bay ready to treat malnutrition. _

Without thinking, Shepard slowly brought the datapad to her chest and clutched it tightly. Garrus was alive. The crew of the Normandy was _alive_. The knot that had been in her stomach since she woke up from the coma slowly unfurled. Garrus and Tali would get the medical attention they needed and she'd make sure the rest of the crew was safe.

Looking up, Shepard saw the eyes of all three Councilors were on her. Her heart was racing. "Shepard, do you have anything to add?" Tevos asked. The walls around Shepard seemed to shrink. She needed the open air, to see the sky; she needed to be at the docking bay. She needed to feel Garrus' hand in hers and look into his eyes. And she needed these things _now._

Only one response seemed appropriate.

"I should go."

8


	3. The Lovers, Upright

_**The Lovers, Upright **__- Difficult decisions to be made not necessarily about love. Possibly a struggle between two paths. _

The docking bay was in chaos.

Someone must have let the news slip. A well meaning Alliance soldier? A friend or family member of one of her crew? Shepard stood in the back of the crowd, full of press and soldiers and refugees, tugging the brim of her baseball cap down and pulling the collar of her coat up. The last thing she wanted right now was to be recognized.

The walk from the Council's building tired her; three months of physical therapy not enough to piece her quite back together. Both legs had been broken, along with her arms. But her Cerberus implants still chugged along, defying the AI's threat that she would be a victim due to her choice.

She had _lived._

Sometimes she wondered if she would ever be _Commander Shepard_ again. And sometimes she wondered if she even wanted to be. She let out a huff of a laugh. The question could be answered later, not when Garrus was within reach.

The thought of Garrus almost staggered her. She steadied herself on a nearby crate, watching the doctors walk up to the ramp. An attendant with a stretcher and two wheelchairs also stood waiting. Her stomach twisted at the thought of him being so weak that he needed a stretcher.

But soon she would see him for herself.

Shepard closed her eyes and tried to remember the last time they saw each other. That day was fuzzy in her memory. She could almost feel the warmth of his mouth plates against her lips, stretching the muscles in their legs, getting ready for the run of their lives. She remembered thinking Garrus had a better chance of making it to the beam than she did; turians were much faster runners. The thought had felt like a cruel joke.

Her eyes flew open when a cheer - louder than Shepard ever heard before - went up. The noise startled her, and before she could stop herself, Shepard turned off her hearing implants. Raking the sky, Shepard saw the _Normandy_, still small, still too far away, but whole. Around her, the silent cheers continued as the _Normandy_ pulled into the bay. Docking clamps went down and her ship was still.

_Welcome home, beautiful._

A moment later, the doors to the docking ramp opened and the doctors rushed inside. Shepard felt her throat constrict. The _Normandy had _brought Garrus back to her. Had brought her crew back to her. She wiped away the tears before they had a chance to fall.

Her breaths started to come in gulps. Shepard squatted down, hugging her knees to her chest and tried to force herself to breath. Since she woke up in the hospital alone, Shepard tried to enforce her rule, _don__'t talk - or even _think - _about the future,_ but the numbers kept invading her thoughts. The last few weeks were almost unbearable, her hand desperate to reach for what simply wasn't there.

Burying her head in her arms, Shepard let the silence and the lack of light calm her as she felt a slight breeze from the ocean raise the fine hair on the back of her neck. _Garrus was alive. _The words repeated themselves over and over in her head like a mantra.

Her breathing under control, Shepard stood up and looked at the Normandy. She hoped there would be a vid of this moment for her crew to see later on. They certainly deserved every bit of a hero's welcome home. As far as she was concerned, they couldn't pile the accalaids high enough for her crew.

Her omni-tool flashed at her wrist once, indicating a message. She brought up the interface quickly, wondering if Garrus wrote her, telling her to get inside. Surely the Alliance told the crew that she lived? The message was from Joker.

_I see you hiding in the back. Get your ass in here._

A smile crossed her lips as she closed the interface. She waved towards the cockpit, wondering if he could see her or if the external camera was looking in a different direction. Standing up, Shepard hunched her shoulders, putting her hands deep in her coat pockets and started making her way through the throng of spectators.

Recognition arose only a few steps into her journey. People patting her on the back and trying to shake her hand, shouting questions she couldn't hear. She forced a smile on her face, wishing she could ask them to give her some room - she needed to breath - and why did anyone think it acceptable to touch someone without their permission?

Some Alliance soldiers took charge of the situation, clearing a path in front of her. Each step closer, a step closer to _him. _Eventually Shepard made it through the throng, past the line of guards, ready to maintain order. When she made it to the ramp, Shepard knew she had to do something, give the hundreds of people who gathered here for a glimpse of the _Normandy_ a present of some sort.

Taking off her hat, she turned to the crowd and waved, smiling, not quite happy, but not sad, either. A quick nod, and Shepard stepped onto the ramp. Her pace picked up to a slow jog until she arrived at the doors to the _Normandy._ She reached out, touching the doors with her bare hands.

"Thank you," she said softly. Moments like this made Shepard wish she believed in Garrus' spirits. Until she had a command of her own, she never realized: ships have _souls. _The _Normandy _flew fiercely as Arashu herself, protecting her crew until she brought them home again.

Flicking open her omni-tool, Shepard turned her implants on and waited for the doors to open. She wasn't sure what to expect when she stepped foot onto her ship. When she first woke from her coma, she dreamed of Garrus showing up at her bedside in the hospital one day. The dreams changed when she was installed into her own prefab. Then she would meet him at the door and the moment they opened, they'd be in each others arms. The last few days, her dreams were nightmares, meeting his casket at the gate.

"So you just had to prove everyone wrong and survive the blast from the Crucible," Joker said, standing in the door to the cockpit.

Shepard smiled, a true smile, using facial muscles she wasn't sure she'd ever use again. "What can I say? Death owed me a favor."

"It's damn good to see you again, Shepard," Joker said.

He held out his hand, which Shepard gladly grasped. Feeling the warmth of his hand hers, somehow made the moment real. She was _home._

"Thanks, Joker," she said, giving him another smile before turning to the right to head into the CIC.

A cheer went up went up as she walked down the short ramp and down the stairs. The stairs never made sense to her; would have made much more sense to have a flat surface throughout the CIC. From the looks of it, almost half the crew were standing there. Fitch, Ng, Ayanbadejo, too many names to think of in just one moment. She wetted her lips, wondering if they would expect her to say something. As much as should love to take the time to greet them all one by one, she needed to see Garrus.

Vega came to her rescue. He walked right up to her and gave her a bear hug, lifting her feet off the ground. "I knew you hadn't kicked the bucket!" he yelled. "I knew it!"

"Glad to see your faith in me was rewarded, Vega," Shepard said with a laugh.

He looked at the gathering crowd. "Lola can give us a speech later. I think we all know she wants to see Scars right now."

"It's…" Shepard took a breath and looked at the faces of her crew. "I'm so glad to see you all again."

The crew quieted, though murmurs could still be heard. She could hear comments about her face, her hair, how skinny she looked now. Shepard knew none of it was malicious, just nerves, probably, glad that they were home.

As they walked towards the elevator, Shepard saw Adams standing next to Ken and a visibly pregnant Gabby. Shepard stopped in front of the group. "Hell of a souvenir," Shepard said, looking down at Gabby's belly. "This happen before or after the Crucible?"

"I didn't tell anyone," Gabby said sheepishly. "I knew you'd never let me back on the ship after shore leave."

"Damn right I wouldn't," Shepard said. "Well, you're home now."

"Yes, we are, commander," Ken said, putting his arm around Gabby's shoulders. "Thank you for that."

Shepard nodded and walked into the open elevator where James was waiting. The doors closed and Shepard felt her whole body sigh. _Almost there_, she told herself.

"Good work out there, Lola," James said quietly.

Shepard wasn't sure whether he meant her work in the Citadel or saying hello to the crew, but she accepted the compliment for what it was. "Thanks, James. It's good to be home."

The moment the doors opened, Shepard rushed into the mess hall to the med bay. The windows were in privacy mode, leaving Shepard with a moment of doubt. Perhaps the doctors needed more time.

"Shepard, there you are."

Turning, Shepard saw Doctor Chakwas leaning against one of the kitchen counters. "Shouldn't you be in there?"

Chakwas walked up to Shepard and shook her hand. "I've done what I could; it's best to give the physicians room. I would only be in the way."

"Sit rep?"

"Not nearly as bad as I'm sure you imagined," Chakwas told her. Shepard shifted her weight and clasped her hands behind her back, trying to keep from fidgeting. "We rationed very well, once we realized what was happening. Both Garrus and Tali were far luckier than most who deal with a lack of food. They both had personal vitamins on board. So while their bodies didn't receive the sustenance needed, they did receive the nutrients."

"Good," Shepard said, closing her eyes. The knowledge that Garrus was truly going to be fine washed over her. Chakwas opened her mouth as if to continue, but Shepard raised her hand, silently asking for a moment. She turned, so her back faced Chakwas and James. Covering her face with her hands, she said, "That's good," her voice cracking on the words.

"Very, I assure you," Chakwas said as Shepard felt the doctor's hand on her shoulder. Shepard took a breath and turned back around. Chakwas continued. "They've both lost weight, which has caused some complications for Garrus. He injured his hip during the run to the beam. We operated, but I hesitate to call it a success, not without a turian physician giving his hip a thorough examination. Compound his hip with his lower back issues returning due to the weight loss, and, well, let's just say most of his time has been spent in the med bay over the past few weeks."

"Will he be alright?" Shepard asked, wondering why Garrus never mentioned he had back issues before.

"I would estimate he'll return to his old self in a few weeks, though he's going to have to make a decision about his back. Surgery or giving up heavy armor are his most logical options," Chakwas said.

"Thank you for taking care of them," Shepard said, grasping both of Chakwas' hands in her. "Thank you."

"We all assumed the worst, Shepard, when we saw what happened to the Citadel. I'm very glad to know we were wrong."

"Do you think I can go in there?" Shepard asked, looking at the door, the only thing between her and Garrus. Her heart was beating wildly beneath her breastbone. They were so _close__…_

"I can't think of any medical reason why not. Joker made a shipwide announcement that you were on your way, so he knows you're here," Chakwas told her.

Shepard palmed the door to the medbay, relief seeping into every pore of her skin. She would see him within seconds, now. "Then I better not keep him waiting."

Any moment Shepard would walk through that door and this nightmare would be over. Garrus tried to pay attention to the doctor, he really did. A few days in hospital for observation. Once released, only a clear liquid diet for three days, followed by a few days of a plain liquid diet. In a week, maybe, if everything went well, he could start eating solid food again.

He flinched slightly as a needle pricked the soft hide of his underarm. "Let me know if you start feeling nauseas," the doctor told him.

Garrus nodded his thanks and for the first time in a week, felt hunger pierce his stomach, though he knew the feeling had nothing to do with food and everything to do with Shepard. _Where was she?_

He had been convinced when she sent him away on the _Normandy_ that they had used up all their luck. Between Cerberus and Omega and Reapers, neither one of them deserved as many second chances as they had. Yet here they were. While he might not be at his best - two weeks of no solid food would knock anyone down a peg or two - he was _alive._

More importantly, _Shepard_ was alive. There were so many days he struggled to believe she lived. If Garrus lived to be a thousand years old, he would never forgot the moment when Joker's voice came over the medbay speakers, telling him Alliance Command said Shepard would be thrilled the _Normandy _arrived safely home.

"Doing okay there, Tali?" Garrus asked, trying to stop counting each second that ticked past.

Tali was lying down on her back, her arm outstretched as a quarian doctor attached a thin tube to Tali's face mask port. "Never better," Tali said, sounding exhausted. The weeks had taken their tole on Tali; her environmental suit wasn't quite as smug, her breasts not nearly as full, her hips smaller. Details Garrus might never had noticed if not for Shepard.

He knew he looked no better. His civilian clothes hung off his frame a bit. Once they had known rationing was to be in their future, Garrus stopped lifting weights. Turians lost muscle mass quickly and the result was even a slimmer waist than when he had been on the SR-1. He didn't think it was a good look for him. Not anymore.

As the doctor gave Garrus another shot, the doors opened and she stepped inside.

_Shepard. _

She stood just inside the doorway and neither spoke, just simply looked at the other. Garrus could almost feel her cataloging the changes in his body, just as he did the same for her. The difference he noticed at once was her face. How badly must she have been burned for her skin to heal a different color? Spirits, he wished he could have been there with her through the worst of it. But they were together now, and somehow Shepard was healthy and whole in front of him.

The fingers of his hand flexed without thinking, a reaction, perhaps of wanting to feel the weight of her hand in his. The movement was enough to spur Shepard to action. Three steps later, their arms were around each other. Garrus closed his eyes and breathed her in, holding her as tight as he was able. The embrace felt different; they both had lost weight.

Garrus felt Shepard slide her cheek against his mandible and it was all he could do not to let out a keening cry of relief. He had wanted to believe so desperately that she lived and now she was in his arms.

Shepard pulled back, though not letting go. Garrus took a talon and slowly traced the line down the middle of her face. Their wounds almost mirrored each other. Her left, his right. Her mouth opened, as if to say something, but then closed, giving him a smile instead. There were unshed tears in her eyes and they told him everything. The way she leaned against him spoke of her exhaustion. Shepard knew her ship's inventory; she would have known how long the rations would last. He could only begin to understand the emotional toll the last four months must have taken on her. But they were together now. They could rest. Maybe not a beach, but a few days off sounded absolutely perfect.

Smiling gently, Shepard placed her hands on either side of his neck. Garrus leaned forward and touched his brow to hers. "I love you," she whispered, her words barely brushing the air, quiet enough so no one else in the room could hear.

"I love you, too," he said, just as soft, though his sub-vocals betrayed him to the doctor. He didn't care. Not today.

The medbay doors opened and a stretcher was brought inside. Shepard looked at it, her brow furrowed. "Do you need a stretcher to get out…" her words trailed off when she saw Joker, holding his cap in his hands.

"Oh god, no," Shepard whispered, her eyes locked on the AI core. "EDI?"

Garrus brought her close again, as he if could somehow shield her from the upcoming blow. "Inactive since the Crucible fired," he said quietly. Shepard placed her forehead on his shoulder. He reached up and cradled her neck, trying to help steady her as she took uneven gulps of air.

The attendant started pushing the stretcher to the AI Core. "May I have a minute in there?" Shepard asked, not looking up from their embrace.

"If you want," the attendant said. Shepard swallowed loudly and raised her head. Garrus looked her in the eye, silently offering what support he could. He tightened the grip on her hand as she walked slowly around his examining table. They held hands until the last possible moment, but then Shepard took a step further away and he had no choice to let go.

Shepard stepped over to Tali, who was now sitting up. "Good to see you, Tali," Shepard said, putting her hands on both of the quarian's shoulders.

Tali patted Shepard's hand and cocked her head in a way that Garrus knew was a smile. "Go say good-bye to EDI, Shepard. We have plenty of time to talk."

Nodding, Shepard walked up to the doors of AI Core and took a breath. Looking over his shoulder, Garrus saw a glimpse of EDI's body before the doors shut behind Shepard.

"They're going to give her body to some of the Crucible scientists," Joker said. "Guess a few of them are working on trying to get the geth up and running again."

"Geth are down, too?" Garrus asked. Damn. So much had changed in only four months.

"Guess so." Joker ran his hand over his hair. "They think it's the same issue, so if they can get back one, maybe they can get back the other."

"Here's hoping," Garrus said with a nod. There was nothing else to be said.

After a few minutes, Shepard stepped back into the medbay. Garrus didn't miss the reddened eyes or the not quite dried tear tracks running down her cheeks. She quietly patted Joker on the shoulder, and then walked back over to Garrus. The only thing he could offer at the moment was his hand. So he held it out and she took it at once, squeezing tightly. They watched in silence as the stretcher rolled into the AI core with Joker following.

Shepard leaned against him as they waited for the stretcher to return. The doctor was in the middle of giving Garrus yet another shot when the AI core doors opened. Garrus was glad a sheet had been placed over EDI's body. Joker told the Normandy crew there was quite a crowd gathered for their return. EDI didn't need to become a spectacle.

"Let's follow," Shepard whispered. Garrus nodded. He doubt he'd be able to keep up, but he'd do his best.

The doctor made no protest and told him a wheelchair was in the mess hall waiting for him. Garrus declined for the moment. His place was standing by Shepard's side.

They followed EDI's body in silence, hands clasped tightly together. Each step seemed to take more effort than the last. Garrus could feel Shepard looking up at him, wanting to ask if he needed to rest or sit in that damn chair. Once they stepped off the ship, then yes, the chair sounded good, Spirits, the chair sounded _great. _But he needed to walk off of the _Normandy_ on his own two feet.

The memorial wall beaconed and the memory of the plaque with Shepard's name on it felt heavy in his hands. He remembered all too clearly; Joker placing EDI's name on the wall, then Williams putting up Anderson's. Then it had been his turn. In the end he simply couldn't do it. And now, feeling her lean against his shoulder, Garrus was glad he never fully succumbed to doubt.

Shepard dropped his hand and stood right in front of the memorial. The fingers of one hand brushed Anderson's name, a mirror of what Garrus himself had done with her plaque. With a sharp intake of breath, Shepard turned and marched into the starboard observation deck.

The stretcher with EDI's body disappeared into the elevator. Garrus leaned against the wall, wondering if Shepard needed a moment alone or if he should go in and get her. Practically won out. He needed to be in a hospital for observation and there was no way he was leaving the _Normandy_ without Shepard.

Ignoring the pain in his back, Garrus made his way to the door. As emotional of a day it was for him, Garrus had to imagine it was ten times worse for her. He knew the crew was safe, after all; he'd had four months to get used to EDI's death. She was learning all of this in one day.

The doors opened and Garrus walked inside. He assumed she'd be standing, so when he didn't see her right away, he became concerned. But then he saw her. Shepard was on her haunches, rocking slowly, her hands weaving through her hair. Taking another step towards her, he heard Shepard muttering to herself.

Her eyes were focused on a fixed spot, next to the chair in the corner. And once Garrus comprehended the words, a sense of dread clawed at his gizzard. She wasn't talking to herself. She was talking to _someone._

"Please, just say something," Shepard said softly, her voice urgent. "Why don't you ever say anything? Legion, _please_."

When his fingers touched her shoulder, Shepard wouldn't quite meet his gaze as she stood up. Garrus wouldn't ask questions, they could wait for the moment. As she put her hand in his, Garrus understood that perhaps Shepard wasn't nearly as healthy and whole as he hoped.

10


	4. The Three of Cups, Upright

**Chapter Four****:**_** The Three of Cups, ****Upright **- A fortunate end to a valued project or venture. A card of abundant trust and harmony. Possibly a celebration._

* * *

"Shepard! Up for another?" James held up a can of beer.

She shook her head, content with the beer currently in her hands. For once, the Alliance had done something right. Instead of ushering her crew into small cramped rooms and starting the debriefing process right away, they allowed her crew to gather in what used to be an outdoor picnic area. Shepard pulled as many strings as she could and Hackett himself showed up at the beginning of the party - thankfully only staying for a few minutes - and towed in six cases of beer. Alcohol was scarce, only to be served at diplomatic functions, but the Alliance knew if anyone deserved a treat after what they had been through, it was her crew.

Food was a different matter. The arrival of the _Normandy _meant an additional fifty-four mouths for the Alliance to feed on a daily basis. So instead of the feast they deserved, her crew had to be content with the best MRE's that could be offered. But considering they'd only been eating ration bars for the past month, most saw the MRE's as a treat.

From her vantage point on the picnic table, Shepard could see the ocean and feel the breeze coming off the waves. An ocean view was one she was used to. Like James, she grew up on the Pacific. One of her favorite things to do as a teenager was go the Santa Monica Pier. She'd walk the length of the beach, offering to walk people's dogs or watch their kids for credits. And by the end of the day, she'd have a tan and a handful of chits in her pocket.

Funny, she hadn't thought of that in years. She wondered if the pier was still there, or if the Reapers had gotten to it like so many other places. The Egyptian Pyramids. The Cristo Redentor. The Taj Mahal. All blasted to dust by the Reapers.

Some day humanity would have to build new wonders.

"Skipper."

Shepard looked up to see Ashley standing in front of her. "Lieutenant Commander Williams," Shepard said with a grin. She patted the space next to her. "Sit your ass down and talk to me."

There was a strange sense of nostalgia seeing Ashley in front of her, wearing regular BDU's instead of the casual uniform she had preferred. Her hair was even up in a bun. Shepard laughed. She could close her eyes and almost picture Wrex standing around, and Garrus fixing the Mako across the way. "Yes, ma'am," Ashley said with a mock salute. She climbed up on the picnic table next to Shepard.

"You did good, Ash," Shepard said softly.

Ashley smiled sadly at the praise. "I didn't want to leave you," she said, shaking her head.

Shepard had only heard bits and pieces from various crew members about what happened to the _Normandy_ after the Crucible fired. For now, she was content to listen to what the crew was willing to tell her. But once they all were back and working again? Shepard wanted answers. She needed to know exactly why they were gone for four months.

Bumping Ashley's shoulder with her own, Shepard said, "You did what you needed to do to keep the crew safe. You know if I had to choose between them or me I wouldn't hesitate."

Ashley nodded. "I know. That's why I was able to look at myself in the mirror." She leaned back on her hands. "I had no idea how integrated the _Normandy__'s _computers were tied into EDI and the AI core. It took three weeks just to get the damn on-board computers working again. We actually had to go outside and look at the stars to figure out just were the hell we were. I'm just a soldier, Skipper. I can't tell you how lost I felt, knowing I couldn't do a damn thing to help Tali and the engineers."

"We all thought EDI was invincible," Shepard said, trying to keep the wistfulness out of her voice.

It had been the shock of seeing EDI's unresponsive platform along with Admiral Anderson's name on the memorial wall. That's what she told herself. She hadn't had a vision in weeks, not since arriving back at her prefab after Victus told her Garrus would be declared dead by the Hierarchy. Then she had opened the door to her prefab and found Shiala sitting on her couch.

At first Shepard hadn't recognized the asari; she was tinted blue, not green, like the last time they saw each other, on Illium. Shepard had tried talking to the vision, her mind racing, wondering if this was it, if she had finally slipped into indoctrination at last. Hand on the holster of her pistol, she'd promised herself if the vision spoke and anything vaguely sounding like instructions came out of her mouth, Shepard wouldn't hesitate.

She'd find the courage to pull the trigger.

But Shiala - like the small Prothean child Shepard had seen weeks before her - didn't speak or make any sign she realized Shepard was even there. And after a few minutes, Shiala was gone. Shepard had gone to the couch, placing her hands on the seat, trying to feel warmth on the cushions or any type of evidence. Of course there had been none.

Shiala had written to Shepard once during the war, mentioning she and the other colonists were planning on leaving Feros to fight. Shepard had wondered if it would be better or worse to learn of Shiala's fate in the war. After some deliberation, Shepard decided she needed to know. She needed facts.

The Alliance databases told her that Shiala and all of the Feros colonists had been killed two weeks before the battle on Earth.

PTSD manifested itself in strange ways. She wouldn't be the first soldier to suffer, nor the last. If any soldier under her command spoke of visions, she knew what her advice would be: go talk to the therapists. That's what they were there for. Yet she hesitated to take her own advice.

She still remembered the rounds of mandated therapy she'd endured after Akuze. By the end she wanted to scream. Yes, she was gutted that so many people died while she lived. Yes, she felt responsible at times. But in the end, she knew the attack wasn't her fault. At the time, she blamed the thresher maw. Now at least she could blame Cerberus…

There was so much work to be done. Confessing to these visions now… They wouldn't take chances with someone of her clearance level. She'd be classified as Cat-6 faster than she could blink. And maybe it wasn't fair for her to take those chances herself. She could talk to Garrus, once he was stronger. She'd certainly get a fair and honest opinion from him.

"Everything okay over here?" James asked, walking over to them. "Things got all quiet."

"We're fine, Vega," Ashley said. "Be a gentleman and go get me another drink."

James grabbed Ashley's hand. Bringing her hand up to his lips, he kissed it gently. "Anything for my lady," he said before jogging off.

Ashley leaned forward and covering her face with her hands. "Shoot me now."

"Ashley Williams," Shepard said, drawing out each syllable. She could feel the silly grin on her face. "Are you telling me your one-night stand with Mister Vega has developed into something more?"

"Maybe?" Ashley said, a sheepish grin on her face. She turned her head and looked at Shepard. "I don't know what'll happen now that we're back on Earth. Neither one of us is really comfortable with the idea of breaking regs. Or being like you and Garrus."

Shepard raised an eyebrow, wondering how much Ashley had to drink to bring forth such honesty. "What do you mean, 'like me and Garrus?'" she asked, hoping there was no venom in her tone.

"I didn't mean it like that, Skipper," Ashley said. She brought both feet up onto the picnic table and wrapped her arms around her knees. "Look, the night before we held the memorial for you, Anderson and EDI? We decided to have a party and we finished off every single drop of booze on the ship."

"I keep my ship well-stocked, Williams, that must have been a hell of a party," Shepard said with a low whistle.

"We were all _so_ hung-over during the actual memorial, but that's not the point," Ashley said. "Garrus got drunk. Really drunk. Like wanting to talk about feelings drunk."

"Do I want to know?" Shepard asked, trusting Williams to be honest with her.

"Eh, Cortez convinced him to do drunken shuttle simulations with him before Garrus said anything too horrible," Ashley said with a smile. "But one thing he did say that you two had been together for sixteen months, and for ten of those months, you guys were apart."

Shepard nodded. "That's true." She didn't add that if she had her way, they would never be separated like that again.

"I don't know if I want a long distance relationship." Ashley sighed. "The Reapers are gone, Skipper. I don't think my place is on the _Normandy _any more."

Shepard knew this conversation would happen at some point, but she didn't expect it to be so soon. Ashley was meant for more than sitting around the observation deck, waiting for those far too few moments when she would go on a mission, or when they'd sit together and Shepard would discuss the finer points of command. Once Shepard had Alliance clearance again, she had looked into Ashley's service record for the previous two years. She had done damn good work. And Shepard was pleased with Ashley's leadership abilities for some of the smash and grab missions she led. "And you're a Spectre."

"And I'm a Spectre," Ashley agreed. "But for now… he's a good man."

"That he is," Shepard agreed. Leaning back on her hands, Shepard added, "Damn. You owe me big time, Williams."

"I owe you?" Ashley asked, sitting up. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking like she was trying not to smile. "How so?"

"If not for my subtle encouragement the night of the party, you might never have hooked up," Shepard said smugly. "That, and you had sex in my guest bedroom before Garrus and I had a chance to. You _owe_ me."

"You and Garrus had a perfectly good bed of your own, Skipper," Ashley said, not trying to fight smiling any longer.

"Yes, we did," Shepard said, letting her mind linger a bit. She and Garrus tried to christen every available surface of that apartment during their shore leave. Even with the war raging, that had been one of the happiest weeks of her life. Spending so much time with her crew, the night in the casino with Garrus, the party… She wondered if the apartment was still standing or if it had been turned into dust.

No one quite knew what to do about the Citadel. The resources simply weren't there to rebuild at this point, not when so many planets needed basic infrastructure. Eventually a decision would have to be made, repair or destroy. Shepard was beginning to like the idea of a fresh start. Let the races come together and build their own space station, based on their own designs and technology, not the Prothean's.

James called Ashley over then, leaving Shepard alone on the picnic table. For a few minutes, she simply watched her crew interact, seeing how the months had changed them. Perhaps it was just the alcohol, but everyone seemed so close. Barriers had come down between the crew. She saw no difference between enlisted or officer. Even her most reserved squad members, Javik and Liara were talking to Fitch and Traynor respectively.

The four months of being stranded caused any walls between her crew to crumble.

It was a shame they'd have to be separated after this. When discussing the logistics of her returned crew with the Alliance, Shepard insisted that her crew be given a week of shore leave. The majority of them had familes to find and plans to make. Once back, Shepard would have to work to find new assignments for her crew. She hated the thought of breaking them up, but until the relays were back up, the _Normandy _was grounded. Tentatively, the Alliance planned on putting her in dry dock and getting her back up to shape.

After that? No one thought that far ahead.

"Shepard!" called a voice from the dance floor. "Dance with us!"

She debated for all of three seconds before standing up. Shepard knew she looked like an idiot when she danced, but she didn't care. Chugging the last of her beer, Shepard walked over to the other dancers.

"Captain on deck!" Cortez yelled, just like he had the night of her party in her apartment.

Shepard danced.

"You look foolish, commander, when you attempt to move in time with the music," Javik said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"True," Shepard admitted with a laugh. "But it does raise morale. Especially mine."

Let them laugh, Shepard thought with a smile as she continued to dance. She raised her arms over her head, trying and failing to stay in time with the beat. They were _alive. _If that wasn't worth a bit of laughter and dancing, she didn't know what was.

* * *

"You sure, Lola? I'll walk you over there," James said, his arm around Ashley's shoulders.

"I'm sure, Vega. There are lots of patrols out," Shepard said. "Besides, it's a beautiful night for a walk."

"Commander Shepard, leaving before the party is over," Liara said with a smile, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now I've seen everything."

"Guys, I'm going to go see my…" Shepard trailed off, realizing she was about to say husband. Over the past month, since the word _widow_ had scalded her ears, Shepard occasionally let herself indulge in daydreams, thinking herself Garrus' wife. The thought had kept her darker moments at bay. She'd have to stop that. At least until they had a chance to figure out the future. "My Garrus," she finished. She pointed at James jokingly. "Don't begrudge me my Garrus."

James threw off a crisp salute. "Yes, ma'am. Go see your Garrus, Lola."

Shepard simply smiled and gave her crew one last wave. They all cheered as she walked out of the picnic area. Shepard buttoned up her coat and put her hands in her pocket. She meant was she said, looking up at the sky. It was an absolutely beautiful night.

She made good time to the turian camp. The turian and krogan guarding the gates waved her in without checking her ID, like normal. It was really happening. The informal turian and krogan alliance officially began a week ago. The asari and salarians were on the record saying that they were absolutely insane. Shepard couldn't help thinking that if it worked, both races would wish they thought of it first. Hell, if it worked, Shepard would be annoyed that _she _didn't think of it first. Victus was a smart man. Palaven was lucky to have him as Primarch.

The camp seemed different at night. Shepard had only been here during the daylight hours before. There were row after row of tents. A few prefabs were in the start of the camp, were the Primarch lived and worked. She was pleased to see that there were guards outside of Victus' prefab; the Council must have warned the other leaders about Major Efron being on the loose.

Even at night there were turians working, sorting rations and food donations from the quarian live ships. Victus said he was fairly confident the turians on Earth would have enough to eat until the relays were fixed. But if the repairs took longer than anticipated, there could be issues. They would wait for another month before deciding if contingency plans were needed. Though after seeing what Garrus and Tali went through, Shepard thought it might be smarter to start planning now. Just in case.

The field hospital was a quick walk once inside the camp. There were no habitable buildings near the turian camp, so they set up a series of large tents to house their wounded. Shepard imagined it looked very close to what a battlefield hospital looked like hundreds of years ago.

She stepped inside the main tent and realized she had absolutely no idea how to get to Garrus' hospital bed. There were rows of large panels of fabric separating the various beds. Not wanting to disturb any of the patients, Shepard quietly asked for directions from an aide.

The aide led her through a series of hallways and into a different tent altogether. They stopped in front of a cubicle with two serious looking guards standing side by side. Garrus must be closer to the Primarch's seat than they realized if Victus felt the need to assign two guards.

"May I go in there?" Shepard asked the guard softly.

"Sure thing," the guard said.

Shepard nodded briskly. She pushed the fabric out of the way to enter the makeshift hospital room. Then quickly turned around and pulled the fabric taunt together, to give them the illusion of privacy.

Taking a step towards the bed, Shepard realized that Garrus was on his side, sleeping. He made those little noises, almost like purrs, which were the turian equivalent to a human snore. She had always teased him about those sounds. But now? She could listen to them all night.

There was a nearby chair, and Shepard sat down. Shepard looked at Garrus, his eyes shut, taking deep breaths. He wasn't wearing his visor; sleep being just about the only reason he took it off.

Shepard pulled the chair closer to the bed, so she was right next to him. His gloveless hand was _right there,_ and Shepard had to fight the urge to wrap her fingers around his and feel the soft hide of his palm against her cheek. She put her hands under her thighs to control the urge to simply touch him. For now, Shepard would let herself be content simply looking at him. Waking him up would be selfish; she knew he needed the rest.

The look of peace on his face was addicting. And right now was the closest he's been to having a sense of peace. They had found each other again after four months. But unlike reuniting on Menae, when they were both unsure of the other's feelings, this time there was no doubt. She knew he couldn't possibly been briefed on the entire state of the galaxy in one evening. The old saying _ignorance was bliss_ certainly applied in this case. She hated to think tomorrow he'd start to learn their new reality and she might not see this look on his face again for a long, long time.

She stifled a yawn and realized just how exhausted she really was. Emotionally, it had been a tiring day, between the Council meeting, reuniting the Garrus and the _Normandy,_ not to mention the impromptu party. That last beer had been a mistake.

And it was a long walk back to her prefab…

Scooting the chair just a little bit closer to the bed, Shepard rested her arms on the mattress, being careful not to disturb Garrus. With one last glance at his face, Shepard lay her head on her arms and closed her eyes.

Talons caressing her cheek ended her slumber. "Garrus?" she said groggily. "What time is it?"

"Midnightish," he told her, moving his talons from her cheek to grip her hand. The look on his face was intense, as if he was afraid he'd blink and she'd disappear. She understood the feeling. "How long have you been here?"

"Twenty-two hundred hours, maybe?" Shepard said, rubbing her eyes with her free hand. Knowing they were alone in the cubicle, she slipped her hand underneath his mandible. Garrus leaned into the gesture at once. "I just wanted to say good-night."

He patted the space next to him. "Bet we could both fit," he said. His voice was steady, but Shepard didn't miss the slight plead in his sub-vocals.

Shepard bit her lower lip and looked over her shoulder, thinking of the guards behind the thin curtain. Not like they would even really kiss when there was potentially an audience. But simply sleeping in the same bed wouldn't hurt anyone. She grinned and reached down to take off her boots.

Garrus took one of his pillows and placed it over on 'her' side of the hospital bed then folded the other in half for himself. After taking off her coat, Shepard carefully lowered herself into the bed, her back facing Garrus. Immediately Garrus drew her close, so their bodies were flush. As he slid his arm around her waist, Shepard felt her body truly relax for the first time since she learned of the _Normandy__'s _disappearance. She had missed him so damn much.

"Comfortable?" Garrus asked, touching the back of her neck with his mouth plates. She nodded, shivering as Garrus untucked her uniform and placed his palm onto her belly, then covering his hand with the shirt.

"Very," Shepard said, almost in a whisper. She quickly set the alarm on her omni-tool for far too early in the morning. "You?"

"I am the embodiment of comfort right now, Shepard," Garrus said lazily. She smiled, picturing the way Garrus' eyelids were probably fluttering, the way they did when he was about to fall asleep but was fighting against slumber.

"Good night, Garrus," Shepard said, slipping her hand under her shirt so it rested on top of Garrus'.

"Good night, Shepard," he said, kissing the back of her neck again.

And there was no doubt in Shepard's mind that it was. Even with so much to be decided and worried about, Shepard knew they'd get through it. They always did.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to theherocomplex for her beta work!

10


	5. The Nine of Wands, Reversed

_**The Nine of Wands, Reversed: **__Lack or inability to give and take. Delays and disarray. A secure position that is no longer._

* * *

Hackett handed her the datapad without comment. That alone was unusual. Shepard could generally count on a summary of some sort, preparation for what she was about to read. If Hackett didn't have any thing to say…

She skimmed the information in front of her. "Another murder by the Enthrallment team?"

Hackett nodded. "General Invectus, on Palaven," he said. "They have Colonel Corinthus in custody."

"Any relation to the general?" Shepard asked.

"His daughter, I believe."

"Damn," Shepard said, sitting down. Her head hurt. The last three days had gone in a blur. Between welcoming her crew home, to meeting with Hackett and the Council about the Enthrallment Team to spending every available moment with Garrus in the hospital, Shepard was exhausted. And exhausted was never a good look on her.

But having the knowledge that the _Normandy_ was back and her crew safe made the lack of sleep worth everything.

"That's three now, plus two attempts. Any sign of Efron?" Shepard asked.

"Nothing," Hackett said. "We've tried every known comm we have for him, every alias and there's no trace of him."

"It's a big planet if you don't want to be found," Shepard said with a sigh. "This is bad, Admiral."

Hackett ran his hand over his face, which no longer had the sharp looking goatee but a full beard. Shepard had asked him why he made the change once. His answer made so much sense she felt silly for not thinking of it herself. First, he didn't want to waste the water shaving and second he simply didn't have the time. "The Council's getting worried," he said, sitting down at the table.

Shepard bit the inside of her cheek, not sure how to say what needed to be said. "Sir, have we considered the possibility that the team has not gone rogue?"

Hackett looked at her sharply. "The artifacts were all shielded, Shepard," he said finally. "The only time the team would be anywhere near an unshielded artifact is when they were deployed."

"They all accounted for?" Shepard asked.

"Scattered all over the galaxy," Hackett admitted. "I don't even know how many there are. We assigned two of the Crucible scientists to work with the Enthrallment Team. Might be best to talk to them while we search for Efron."

"I can do that," Shepard said.

"Ann Bryson and Padok Wiks," Hackett said. "They're still with the team, helping fix the relays."

"I'll talk to them soon." The scientists were working in Orlando, separated from the rest of camps in Cape Canaveral. Once Shepard woke from her coma and learned the scientists, along with a number of leaders across the galaxy, were all in the same space, she insisted that there be some separation. Her training forced her to see how easily it would be to put the entire galaxy even more into chaos by a few well placed bombs around the area. Thankfully, Hackett agreed, though the scientists protested. Loudly.

So if butting a few heads to get the scientists into locations more secure was necessary, Shepard would do what it took. Some called her neurotic, but Shepard preferred _cautious._

Without those scientists, the galaxy might never have the chance to return to some semblance of normality. Shepard knew they were working day and night, trying to figure out exactly how best to fix the relays. Current predictions were two months. Shepard itched to get the daily reports of their progress and there were even times when she wanted to raise her hand and yell, 'I'm an engineer! Let me help!' But she knew there were scientists there with a great deal more Prothean knowledge than she had. Her time was best spent on other matters.

Shepard's omni-tool pinged. "It's the Council," she said in surprise. She quickly read the message. "Pushing up our meeting. They want to meet in an hour."

"Of course they do," Hackett said, shaking his head.

"I have a few things to take care of before the meeting," Shepard said. She stood up, eager to get back to her prefab to clean a bit before Garrus moved in this afternoon. Back on the _Normandy, _she had Yeoman Fitch who snuck into her cabin once a day to make sure everything was kept neat and orderly. Without the good yeoman, Shepard had to remind herself that uniform shirts don't magically fold themselves in the drawers or that towels don't pick themselves off the floor.

Shepard knew Garrus preferred things neat and organized. In theory, Shepard did as well. However, reality had not held up to that ideal. She would have to get better at that. She truly wanted Garrus to view the prefab as _theirs_. And if she messed up the place all the time, Shepard feared he would think she was taking over.

"I'll see you there," Hackett said.

Shepard nodded and left the room. Once outside headquarters, she zipped up her coat, the air a little chilly for her liking. She looked up to the sky. No sun, but that wasn't surprising. The effects of smoke from the burning cities across the planet might last as long as year. For now, everyone had to hope that the lower temperatures wouldn't affect future crops.

As she continued to walk, the sounds of construction filled the air. Thanks to the efforts of the krogan - still working for their food - cities across the planet were being rebuilt far more quickly than if humans tried to take on the tasks themselves.

Though new buildings didn't put food in people's stomachs or gave them water to drink. Every morning Shepard woke up and stood in line to get her rations for the day. Most days she simply accepted a HDR, which provided the necessary nutrition for an entire day in a single bar. Those who consumed an HDR instead of asking for three MREs were allowed extra energy rations, which were vital for Shepard to keep her omni-tool charged at all times.

She never wanted to repeat the embarrassment of her omni-tool running out of power during a meeting with top Alliance brass. When she had realized what had happened, Shepard expected impatience and maybe a touch of anger for wasting such a valuable commodity: their time. But all she had seen on their faces was pity, which was ten times worse. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to _pity_ her.

Shepard was alive and she was still fighting. Pity need not apply here.

There were times Shepard needed to remind herself that rationing wouldn't be forever. Usable farmland had been discovered across the planet and plenty of people volunteered to work the land. Once the fall harvest occurred, there was enough food expected to allow the rationing to end.

And once more reliable transportation was available, the water rationing might end as well. Shepard was quite sick of sponge baths; she missed her shower on the _Normandy. _She had taken her shower for granted, being able to stand under the warm spray of water, feeling the stress drain from her muscles. Then Garrus stepping in behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. Sometimes it had led to sex, but more often than not, simply led to quiet conversation as they washed each other.

While Earth was being rebuilt, the human colonies across the galaxy weren't fairing nearly as well. Almost three-fourths of their colonies were dark by the end, with no response to any attempt of communication. More sadly would disappear in the next two months, the ones where the farmland had been destroyed and unless they had six months of surplus supplies…

Across the galaxy, the story was the same for all races. Earth, Palaven, Sur'Kesh, Thessia, Tuchanka, Rannoch, Dekuuna, Kahje, Irune, Khar'shan even Heshtok all were working on recovery. But none of them were able to provide anything other than good wishes to the colonies across the galaxy. Not until the relays were fixed.

Shepard made it to her prefab in record time. Before entering she stood in front, scanning for any possible intruders. Additional security for her prefab, Shepard could handle. Having a bodyguard, like the Councilors? Not in her lifetime. The day she couldn't handle an intruder was the day she took Garrus up on his beach front retirement plan.

Once her foot touched the laminate tile, Shepard heard the shifting of fabric not her own and saw a distinct shape to her right in her peripheral vision. With a flick of her wrist, Shepard deployed her combat drone, and reached for her pistol, wishing her Paladin hadn't been lost during the run to the beam in London.

She had named her drone, Piper, thinking it appropriate, not only as a synonym to the word drone, but Shepard appreciated the imagery of the Pied Piper, leading her enemies to their death.

Piper had many good features. Features that Shepard had worked long hours perfecting. Chain Lightning would knock three people on their asses at once. And when Piper took too much damage to continue operating? It'd blow up in an enemy's face. But the feature Shepard found the most useful was the IFF. Piper knew _never _to fire on another Alliance soldier unless directed. The non-Alliance members of her squad were also included; a simple app installed on their omni-tool meant they'd never be attacked.

Piper didn't fire.

Shepard could count the number of Alliance personnel who had the technical skills to break through her security systems with one hand. Her day just become a whole hell of a lot more complicated.

"Efron."

"I'm not armed, Shepard. You have to help me."

He was sitting, hands in the air, at the small table in the corner which doubled as a dining room table and a desk. He looked an absolute mess, dark brown hair too long for Alliance regulations. His clothes, sturdy traveling gear, were rumpled, as if slept in for several days.

Shepard kept her pistol trained on him. "We've been trying to contact you, Efron."

"I know, I got the messages," he told her. Slowly as not to alarm, Efron lowered his hand and placed them in front of him on the table. His voice was weary, on the verge of breaking. "As soon as I heard there was trouble, I started for Headquarters."

"Then why didn't you answer?" Shepard asked sharply, holstering her pistol, but not taking her hand away. She was starting to regret she didn't pay more attention when Garrus and Zaeed started listing all the ways to rig her apartment on the Citadel during the party she had thrown. "Better yet, why are you in my prefab instead of Headquarters?"

"Because I knew you would be involved," Efron said. His dark brown eyes pleaded with her. "You've got to help my team."

"I'm going to call the Alliance and we'll take you into custody, Efron. Then we can talk."

"Please, I'm just asking for a minute of your time."

Shepard felt her jaw clench. N7 training was hell. That wasn't hyperbole but a statement of fact. Their N1 class had thirty-six recruits. By the time they made it to N6, only four were left. And of those four, only she and Efron had made it through to be awarded the N7 designation.

Two years she had Efron had worked side by side, going across the galaxy to train in different environments. Extreme hot and cold, every type of weather imaginable. They tested each other on tactics, language and even first aid.

And even though she had not seen him - or to be completely honest, even thought of him - in years, the bond was still there. He was family.

Not many engineers were asked into the N7 program. In fact, Shepard could only think of one other besides herself in the last ten years, Captain Riley. Infiltrators like Efron were popular N7 candidates; perfect for solo N7 missions. Though Shepard never understood the contradiction. The N7 program was designed to train future leaders, yet most infiltrators operated alone. Engineers had to play nice with others or no work would ever get done; they knew how to lead teams.

Being an engineer, and used mainly for her work in explosives, Shepard _never_ worked alone on N7 assignments. Someone was always there to watch her back as she set bombs or hacked computers. Most assignments, there would be time to meet the person she'd be working with, to get a sense of them.

But occasionally? Shepard would be forced into a combat zone with a complete stranger who she had to trust to keep her alive and help finish the job. Never once did any stranger assigned to watch her back let her down. Those experiences shaped her, made her trusting, too trusting, Garrus would often tell her.

It was why she trusted Tela Vasir, a fellow Spectre without hesitation. Maya Brooks knew the information and used it well; Shepard never questioned Brooks, thinking it impossible someone wearing an Alliance uniform could betray her.

Never again, she'd told Garrus as they slipped under the covers in her apartment after the numerous debriefings dealing with the theft of the _Normandy._ No more leaping before she looked. The next time someone asked her to trust them without question she'd tell them to get the hell out, she'd said proudly, not willing to admit her new attitude would absolutely break her heart.

If she hadn't trusted unconditionally, Jack would have been dropped off at the closest port after rescuing her from the prison ship. Shepard would have never let Grunt out of his tank. Legion given to Cerberus for experiments. And Garrus…

Garrus would never have stepped foot onto the SR-1.

If she had ignored his plea - _I'm coming with you_ - would Garrus had ever become Archangel? His time on Omega forged him - she could tell from the little he had told her - made him the man she fell in love with. If he had stayed with C-Sec instead, the chances were marginal that they would have ever met again. Shepard tried to imagine her life without Garrus.

No waking up with him in the morning. No sounding board, where she could throw him ideas, both good and bad, and together they'd come up with solutions to whatever was thrown at them. A galaxy with a Shepard but no Vakarian to warm her was a dark place indeed. Empty, Garrus had said. She understood the sentiment completely.

Shepard had chosen to trust them all. And now forced onto a precipice, she realized she needed to keep trusting.

"You have one minute."

Efron's whole body seemed to deflate. "Thank you, Shepard."

"Fifty-five seconds."

"I've gotten messages from a few of my team, all saying the same thing. They were cold, and it was dark. We need to find them."

She swallowed and tried not to think of being cramped in that diving mech, watching the barely concealed panic on Garrus' face as the hatch closed over her form.

_I think they want to kill you._

"We have four in custody. Tolan is on the loose and Rentola and the geth are dead," Shepard said.

Efron bowed his head. "Damnit," he muttered. He looked up at her, his eyes pleading. "Will they be treated fairly?"

"I can't make any guarantees but I hope they will," Shepard said, wondering what sort of justice Aria T'Loak on Omega had in mind for her attempted murderer. Perhaps Shepard should give her a call.

"This was supposed to be an easy gig," Efron said. "The team was made up of mainly infiltrators, a couple of scouts. Land in a combat zone, activate the tactical cloak, drop off an artifact and get the hell out of dodge before anyone knew we were there."

"Is there an artifact on Earth?" Shepard snapped. When Efron took a second too long to reply, she lowered her voice. "Answer me."

"I didn't bring any," Efron said. "But I don't know about the science team, Bryson and Wiks."

Shepard took a deep breath. Those artifacts were used to observe. If there were any near Bryson, especially since they had taken her over before…

"I'm calling the Alliance," Shepard said. "They're going to take you in to custody. We can't take any chances, Efron."

"I understand," he said, running his hand through his head. "I'll cooperate anyway I can, Shepard. Just… the shields were supposed to _protect_ us. None of my people would have signed up if they knew they'd become a murderer."

What if Leviathan had taken control of Cortez or Garrus once they crashed on Despoina? Shepard knew she would want to protect her team from any fallout just like Efron did. "Let's get you secure, just in case."

* * *

"So Efron believes this Leviathan is behind the attack?" Tevos said, her eyes wide.

Shepard looked ahead, standing at parade rest. Next to her, Admiral Hackett mirrored her posture. She nodded once.

"And you believe what he says, that the team did not commit these murders on their own free will?"

A lump formed in Shepard's throat. "I believe we need to investigate the possibility they did not," she said, tasting sawdust on her tongue.

_Leviathan._

She remembered their arrogance. How they were so sure of their place as the top species in the galaxy. Garrus had tried to tell her, asked her if Leviathan was truly the type of ally they wanted in the war. Brushing off the criticism, she had chased them down with a singular focus until Leviathan had no place to hide.

And what had they accomplished? Shepard had poured over the mission reports of the Enthrallment Team. They were afraid to use the artifacts, thinking the Reapers would be able to counter the attacks before too long.

After her debriefing with Hackett and learning about the creation of the Leviathan codex, Shepard hadn't given the aliens a great deal of thought. The _Normandy_ had landed on Thessia only three days later and suddenly the giant creatures seemed far less important than finding the catalyst and defeating Kai Leng.

It this was Leviathan's attempt at sending a message, it was clumsy. Yes, people were killed, but their murderers caught. They needed to speak to the team itself, and not rely on third party sources.

"Well, then I believe that will be our answer," Valern said. "On the Council's behalf, once they relays are working, Shepard, you'll take the _Normandy _and investigate the team and these artifacts."

"Now wait a minute," Hackett said, taking a step forward. "You can't just commandeer the _Normandy._ We'll need her more than ever once the relays are up."

"The Alliance gave the _Normandy_ to the Citadel for Council business," Sparatus said.

"The SR-1, yes, but not the SR-2," Hackett said calmly. "The SR-2 is under Alliance jurisdiction."

The Councilors all looked at him. Shepard clenched her fists behind her back. _Give them the ship, _she silently whispered. If the Council was denied their request, Shepard had no doubt they would use this as reason not to allow humanity back on the Council.

"This mess is thanks to the Alliance, specifically Shepard here," Valern said. "We need information, and Shepard is already briefed on the situation and we can trust her to be discreet."

Shepard had to hold back a laugh. That was the closest to a compliment she would ever get from them.

"Fine," Hackett said after a moment's silence. "Shepard can take the _Normandy."_

As much as Shepard wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery, Shepard knew she couldn't just simply accept the assignment. A year ago she would have charged in and jumped through every hoop they threw in front of her. But now? This decision wouldn't only affect her life.

The assignment would affect Garrus' as well, and Shepard needed to respect that. While they hadn't spoken of the immediate future in the few days since the _Normandy's _return, there was no doubt in her mind whatever was to be their future they would face together.

"While I appreciate your faith in me, Councilors," Shepard said, trying not to cringe at the hypocrisy of her words, "I need twenty-four hours before I can give you an answer."

Not often was the Council left speechless, but Shepard's words seemed to have that reaction. Pursing her lips, Tevos answered, "Fine. Twenty-four hours."

"Thank you, Councilors," Shepard and Hackett said at the same time.

The meeting over, they left the room. Shepard was about to speak when Hackett flashed a hand signal, telling her to be silent. Once out of the building, Hackett said, "Too many potential eavesdroppers in there. Didn't want to say anything."

"Understandable," Shepard said as they started walking towards the Alliance compound.

"So the bastards want the _Normandy,_" Hackett said with a grimace. "You up for this, Shepard?"

"Well-"

"Vakarian will go anywhere you go, you know that," Hackett told her.

Shepard's brow furrowed, insulted on Garrus' behalf. If she'd learned anything this past year was Garrus certainly was his own man. He had no problem calling her out and asking, sometimes even demanding that she explain her decisions. If Garrus followed her, it was because he believed in her and the battles she fought. He wasn't following blindly like Hackett suggested.

"I'll discuss the assignment with him and we'll see," Shepard said, not willing to give Hackett anymore information about the subject.

"Understood," Hackett said. "But for now, I'm assuming you'll accept the assignment." He stopped in the middle of the broken sidewalk. "This is exactly what they want. Send you out into the galaxy so you're out of their hair."

"The thought crossed my mind, sir," Shepard said. She didn't ask for it, but because of her role in the war, Shepard knew she had power. People would listen to her before they listened to the Council. Though she would never dream of abusing the power. Sending her out on a mission made perfect sense. Then they could remind everyone that Commander Shepard worked for _them. _And if it took a couple of months to get the job done? Even better.

"If you do accept, we need to discuss your official Alliance classification," Hackett said.

Shepard tugged her coat around her. "Wouldn't it just be like the war? Fighting for the Alliance and using Spectre status if necessary?"

"You've been officially on medical this whole time, Shepard. I know you've worked your ass off and I can't begin to tell you how much it's appreciated," Hackett told her. His voice softened and Shepard felt a chill up her spine. Hackett didn't do _soft._ "But the reality of your medical situation means if you take off on the _Normandy _it won't be as an Alliance soldier."

The fingers of her right hand circled her left wrist, where her omni-tool lay. "Because I can't hear without assistance?"

"You have two choices: honorable discharge or retire from active duty."

"I see," Shepard said shortly. She should have chosen MREs this morning. Dessert, even a fabricated one sounded really good about now. "If I retire, even with-" She waved her hand around her face indicating her ears. "-I'd still be allowed to be in the reserves, wouldn't I?"

"Correct," Hackett said. "You'd maintain the rank of commander and we'd hire you straight away as an advisor."

"I'll tell you what I told the Council. Give me twenty-four hours," Shepard said, as they started to walk again.

The rest of the walk to Alliance HQ was in silence. Once they reached the gate, Hackett gave her a nod. Shepard nodded back, just as solemn, then turned to begin her trek to the turian field hospital.

_An advisor. _She had served the ideals of the Alliance faithfully for fifteen years. Taking a breath, Shepard put her hands in her pockets. Maybe this would work. As she told Maya Brooks, _they all matter._ Maybe this would be her chance to officially serve all the peoples of the galaxy.

Shepard let out a laugh. She and Garrus had a lot to talk about.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to theherocomplex for her betawork!


	6. The Six of Pentacles, Upright

_**The Six of Pentacles, Upright: **__Solvency in material affairs. Repayment of favors. Charity, patronage, sympathy and a kind heart._

* * *

"Vakarian."

At the sound of Primarch Victus' voice, Garrus snapped his omni-tool shut. The backlog of four months of news and reports would keep. As he straightened up, his back gave a twinge of protest. The decision about surgery would have to be made soon.

"It's good to see you, sir," Garrus said, letting his mandible flare in greeting.

"Please, I'm here on my own time, none of this 'sir' crap," Victus said, extending his hand.

Garrus held Victus' hand for a moment, a proper turian handshake. Once the Relay 314 Incident ran its course, turian and humans were both surprised to learn they shared the same basic greeting of a handshake, though Garrus never understood the numerous variations of the human handshake.

Some were barely more than a brush of the fingers, while others gripped far too hard. Even the lengths weren't standardized. Whenever Garrus went to shake a human's hand, he had no idea how long he''d be required to hold on. The one exception to that had been time when he took Shepard's hand in both of his on Menae. Then he had simply never wanted to let go.

Turian handshakes were different. One beat to clasp the hands, one beat to hold and one beat to let go. Simple and to the point.

"Victus," Garrus said, leaning against his hospital bed.

"So will the Alliance ever release what happened to the _Normandy_?" Victus asked.

"Not much to tell," Garrus said truthfully. "We were hit by a beam and crash landed on Gliese. If we had been in dry dock, once the computers were up, the repairs would only have taken two weeks. Instead…"

"Four months," Victus said with a sigh. "And another two before the relays are fixed. I want to get back to Palaven and have sex with my wife.""

"Ah," Garrus said with a chuckle, not exactly sure how to respond. He and Victus had become not just colleagues but friends thanks to the Reaper War. Garrus didn't know whether to be pleased or recoil that the Primarch of Palaven felt he could say such things to him.

"I would have visited earlier…" Victus trailed off.

"From what I understand, you've been busy," Garrus said. Truth be told, Garrus was glad Victus hadn''t found time to visit until now. He much preferred to see the Primarch, even if he was a friend, when he wasn't wearing a hospital gown and when he was able to stand on his own two feet. The medicine Garrus had been given worked _very _well.

"To put it mildly," Victus said, grabbing a chair and sitting down. "I hope you don't think you're heading for a vacation. I mean to put you to work."

"Looking forward to it," Garrus said. And he was. There were times when he felt absolutely useless on the _Normandy _over the past few months. He was able to help getting the computers back online, but after that? He didn't know anything about the drive core. Most of his time was divided between helping Traynor with the comm or sitting in the AI Core, seeing if there was anything he could do to bring EDI back to life.

"Vakarian…" Underneath the word, Garrus heard a low tone of apology in Victus' sub-vocals. The quiet thrum changed to one of worry. Garrus tensed for whatever the Primarch had to say. "A month ago, when I told Shepard you were to be classified as killed in service, I might have let it slip that you planned to propose."

Garrus relaxed and waved away the apology. "She knew," he said, thinking of those last desperate moments before they ran towards the beam.

_You better have your answer ready._

He already had known what her answer would be, never doubted it. But Garrus had wanted to hear the words _after_ the fight was over.

"Alright, then," Victus said, his sub-vocals lighter now, sounding pleased. "When will you-" He held up his hands, stopping himself. "Never mind. That's none of my business."

Before their forced separation, Garrus assumed they'd wed almost immediately after the Reapers were defeated. The last four months altered his thinking a bit. Not about Shepard; his feelings for her hadn't changed one bit.

But the reality was thanks to her damned rule - not wanting to talk about future - Garrus didn't quite know what Shepard actually hoped for in hers. She didn't exactly say no to the idea of starting a family together, but she didn''t say yes, either. Until they both knew what the other wanted, proposing, even when he had no doubt she would accept, didn't seem wise.

The last thing Garrus wanted was to rush into marriage, like his parents had. He knew how to count; Sol was born only four months after they wed and turian pregnancies were six months long. The result of their haste? Separate dwellings, light years away and Garrus and his sister barely seeing their father.

His marriage to Shepard would be different. He would make sure of that

"Well, I suppose now isn't the best time, not when she's about to drag you into another mission,"" Victus said, lowering his voice. "We'll discuss the details tomorrow, but you'll be the Hierarchy''s representation for the duration."

Garrus tensed, wondering what exactly Victus was speaking of. He would like to think Shepard would have told him about a mission. Keeping his sub-vocals steady, Garrus said, "Tomorrow will be fine."

"Good. And before I go, there hasn't been any sign of your family yet," Victus said. ""We haven't had any luck yet, but there are plenty of places for a ship to hide in this galaxy. And we get reports daily of new ships checking in."

Garrus nodded. Shepard had told him about the situation last night. Right now, all he could do was ask the Spirits to keep them safe. It didn't seem like nearly enough.

"I need to get back to it," Victus said. They shook hands once more. "It's damn good to have you back, Vakarian."

"Good to be back, Victus," Garrus said with a nod as Victus left the room.

Before long, Shepard walked into the small hospital cubicle, closing the makeshift curtain behind her tight. His eyes raked over her form; she needed to gain weight. Shepard wasn't ever this thin during the war. But back then Shepard had Yeoman Fitch, who seemed to make it her life''s work to ensure Shepard ate three meals a day.

She wasn't placing her full weight on her left foot as she walked. He hadn't noticed that before. Garrus couldn't help wonder how many other details in her body might have changed thanks to the Crucible. He'd have to find out.

"You ready to get out of here?" she said, wrapping her arms around his cowl.

Brushing her cheek with a talon, Garrus said, "So what's this I hear about you dragging me back into hell?"

"How in the world have you heard about this already?" Shepard asked, shaking her head. "You know details?""

"No," Garrus said truthfully. "But here certainly isn't the place to talk about them."

"Agreed," Shepard said, standing up straight. "And nothing is set in stone yet. I told the Council I needed twenty-four hours to make a decision.""

Standing up, Garrus grabbed the bag of liquidfied meals which were to be his sustenance for the next several days. As much as he joked about hating ration bars, he couldn't wait to actually eat one again. "Why?"" he asked.

Shepard punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Because I meant when I said _'_No Shepard without Vakarian,' Garrus. I'm not making a decision like this without your opinion."

Garrus took her hand. "I don't know details yet, but do you think this mission is important enough to warrant your personal attention?"

They had quite different opinions when it came to missions requiring her attention. Shepard seemed to think if the mission was assigned to her, like most of those pesky ones from Hackett, they were important. Picking up Reaper tech and securing a canon were absolutely not important in his mind. Hackett had plenty of other N7s. The admiral should have utilized them more.

He was pleased to see she was considering his words and not jumping in with an answer. After a moment, Shepard nodded. "It is," she said with enough conviction Garrus believed her.

"Then I'm in," he said. "If you think this is critical, then I'm going to be right there next to you." He leaned forward and rested his brow on hers. Four months had almost made him forget the sense of peace he felt when their brows touched. "Of course, it might help if I knew what we were doing."

Her smile was soft as she brought her lips against his mouth plates. Garrus let himself revel in the sensation for a few seconds before breaking away. "Let's get out of here.""

"Best idea I've heard all day," Shepard said. She walked over to the curtain and pulled it open. ""After you."

She stopped suddenly. "It's small."

"What is?" Garrus asked. They had taken their time walking from the turian camp to the human's and were now standing in front of a few rows of prefabs. He handled the walk better than he hoped, most likely thanks to Shepard stopping every so often to point things out to him, such as the Council's Building or _The Shepards_ camp. If she did that on purpose, he can't say he minded. "The prefab? I expected that."

"Smaller than the loft," Shepard warned. "The bed is a double, so not much room to toss and turn.""

"Why are you nervous about this, Shepard?" Garrus asked, looking to see if anyone was watching. When he was sure there wasn't, he slid his arm around Shepard's shoulder. "We shared your cabin for almost the entire war. Why is this different?"

She was silent, her brow furrowed. "I wish I was offering you more than a tiny prefab," she said after a moment. "But I didn't want special treatment-"

"Shepard, it's going to be fine, you know that, right?" Garrus said, letting his mouth plates brush her temple.

Garrus felt her relax against him. Nodding, Shepard placed her hand on his neck. "Let's go home."

Shepard led them to a generic prefab, identical to its neighbors. He had seen hundreds, maybe thousands, on various colony worlds in his lifetime. But he never lived in one before. First time for everything.

"Security measures?" Garrus asked as Shepard scanned the prefab.

Once she seemed satisfied, Shepard sent all the security information to his omni-tool. "I added your biometrics to the logs, so you shouldn't have any problems.""

Garrus brought the program up; already he saw a few improvements he could make. But he would work on that project later. "Ready?" he asked, holding out his hand.

"Home sweet home," Shepard said, putting her hand in his.

Together they walked up the few steps and into the prefab. Once the door closed behind him and before he had a chance to look around, Shepard reached out and pulled on his tunic, placing the fabric in her fists.

"I missed you," she said in a whisper, even though there was no need for quiet.

Garrus put his hands on her hips. There was so much work to be done; thankfully there would be time for reunions later tonight. But there was no harm in enjoying one kiss. "I missed you, too," he said softly.

Her hands went to his neck as she stood on tip toes. Their mouths met and Garrus trailed a talon down her back, slightly alarmed that he could feel the bumps on her spine, something he never could before. But then she opened her mouth, just enough to let his tongue slide in to meet hers. As their mouths lingered together, Garrus breathed her in, realizing that her scent had changed slightly, less metalic, more earthy, the product of not being in a ship for months at a time.

They parted far too quickly. Shepard slid her hand under his mandible. "Work?" she asked.

"Work," Garrus agreed. He brought out his omni-tool and scanned for listening devices, just in case. The room was clean. He gave himself a moment to look around. The prefab was one room, with a tiny kitchen on one end and a double bed with no headboard pushed up against the wall across the way. Against one wall was a small workstation with a low back chair, similar to what he might find in a turian home. "Where'd you get the chair?"

"Asked around the turian camp," Shepard said. "Chakwas said it would be better for your back.""

"Ah," Garrus said. "She told you about that? I thought humans had that medical privacy rule.""

"We do," Shepard said. "But you made me your emergency contact which meant she could tell me everything.""

"That was nice of me," Garrus said with a laugh.

"Very," Shepard said. She put her hands on her hips. "Confession time. I've learned things about myself living here during the past two months."

"Such as?" Garrus asked, not sure where she was going with this.

"I am a slob," she announced. Putting her hands up, she added, "And I know you are not. I will do my best.""

Leaning down, Garrus pressed his brow to hers. "Nothing more I can ask."

"Living in a place like this without a yeoman is hard," Shepard said, laughing. "I've never had to worry about running out of toilet paper before. Or toothpaste. Speaking of, I picked up a bunch of dextro toiletries for you. Hopefully they'll work."

Garrus nodded his thanks. "Shepard, unlike you, I have actual experience in living in an apartment without a yeoman," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. ""So how about this? I'll make sure the toilet paper doesn't run out."

Shepard kissed his mouth plates lightly. "That is the sexiest thing you've said to me today, Garrus." Her head rested on his shoulder as she glanced down at her omni-tool.

"You waiting for a message or something?" Garrus asked.

"Hmm? No, I asked not to be disturbed this afternoon," Shepard said.

"That's the third time you've looked at your omni-tool since you got to the hospital," Garrus said. He hadn't said anything before, but now he was just plain curious.

"Just checking the charge," Shepard said, walking up to the footlocker currently sitting on the small sofa. "This was delivered yesterday.""

That didn't answer Garrus' question. "Three times? In an hour?""

"I'm not having my-" Shepard paused and slowly wrapped the fingers of her right hand around her left wrist. Her voice was quiet. "Haven't told you yet, have I?"

"Haven't told me what, Shepard?" Garrus walked over to her, starting to feel nervous. He ran a talon down her neck. "What''s going on?"

She turned and sat down at the table. Running her hands along the length of her thighs, Shepard took a breath and looked up. "I lost my hearing, in the explosion in the Crucible."

"You lost your-"

"They gave me very good implants. I can hear better than I did before," Shepard said, her words tumbling out of her mouth too quickly.

He tried to imagine not being able to hear. Not hearing the satisfying pop as he reloaded the Black Widow, the sound of his mother's sub-vocals when she told him she was proud of him - _every day, Garrus Vakarian, don't you forget_ - or how Shepard said 'good morning' as they woke up, her voice still heavy from sleep. Those were sounds he treasured and to have them ripped from him...

To a turian, deafness was a severe disability. They rely on sub-vocals for so many things, a turian who couldn't hear them was at a great disadvantage. There were programs that tried to interpret sub-vocals, but they were never as good as a person's instinct.

Shepard looked down at the floor, her hands curling into fists. When she spoke, her voice was ice, sending a chill through him. "Don't pity me." Their eyes met and just for a moment, her face seemed to be made of steel. It was not a look Shepard wore often and rarely directed at him. "There are so many worse off than me."

He wanted to ask questions. She hadn't shared what had happened on the Crucible or how she'd been hurt. But he could wait. He'd file those questions next to the ones he had of her in the observation lounge, talking to Legion. They had time and he had patience. So instead of saying anything, Garrus simply nodded.

"Thank you," Shepard said, standing up, her face soft again. She patted the footlocker. "Your things from the _Normandy_?"

Garrus let her change the subject. He looked down at the floor and rubbed his neck. "Our things," he said, glancing up when Shepard made no response. ""Williams' orders before we took off. She wanted everything packed up, even yours. I didn't want to go through your things, Shepard."

"It's fine, Garrus," Shepard said. "Nothing there that you hadn't seen before." She opened the footlocker. "This will be good for storage.""

"So you ready to tell me about this mission?" Garrus asked as he reached inside the locker. On top were the two other civilian suits he owned besides the one he was wearing. He'd have to figure out what to do about clothes soon. At the hospital, a doctor had looked at his back and concurred with Doctor Chakwas. Until he was back at his old strength and weight, light armor or surgery were his options. The thought of his carapace being cracked open to perform the surgery made his plates itch. Light armor it would have to be.

"Top drawer is yours," Shepard said as Garrus brought his clothes to the small dresser. "Long story short, I think Leviathan is testing the waters."" She stopped and scrunched up her nose in distaste. "Pun not intended."

Garrus walked back to the footlocker and stood next to Shepard. "They ready to be the apex race again now that the Reapers are gone?" Shepard nodded and reached for the pile of her own civilian clothes. ""Careful with those. There's glass wrapped in there."

She unfolded the lace dress she had worn on their date to the casino. Nestled inside the fabric were three empty bottles of wine. Her smile lit up her entire face. "I can't believe you kept these,"" she said, picking up the bottle they shared before the Omega-4 relay. Her fingers grazed the one they drank after their time on the top of the Presidium. "Any others?"

Garrus shook his head, and reached for the bottle the shared the night the _Normandy _picked him up from Menae. They had shared numerous bottles of wine during the war, but these were the ones he couldn't bear to recycle.

She took the bottle Garrus held and placed all three on the dresser, next to the hamster cage that was already there. "There really is a romantic underneath all that, isn't there?"" Shepard asked, laughing as she looked at the bottles.

"Shepard, I broke a hundred and thirty-seven regulations for you," Garrus said. "You know damn well I can romance with the best of them.""

"No argument here," Shepard said, grabbing his hands. She leaned against his chest and Garrus let himself run his talons through her hair. He preferred her head shaved, like she had worn for the last two years. But as he felt the smooth strands against his palms, he thought this could work as well. "There's so much to talk about and I don't even know where to start.""

"Let's keep unpacking then," Garrus said.

She nodded. "I like your thinking." Standing up, she added, "Thank you for taking care of Hammish."

"Ran out of hamster food after three months," Garrus admitted. "But everyone pitched in a little bit to make sure he had enough to eat."" Not that he would readily admit this, but he was sure he bonded with the little guy in Shepard's absence.

Shepard stretched her arms over her head, a move he always enjoyed.

"There's a possibility Leviathan took over some of the Enthrallment Team," Shepard said, apparently having decided what to talk about first. She picked up the crystal Bakara had given her. She pursed her lips, looking around the room. Setting the crystal on top of the small bookcase, she added, "The Council want us to investigate. Personally, I'd like to take that a step further and destroy any of those artifacts we come across."

"So what are we talking about, a couple of months?" Garrus asked as he handed Shepard her civilian clothes to put away.

"Depends on the artifacts," Shepard said. "But first step is talking to the team in person.""

"And you're sure they didn't commit these murders of their own free will?" Garrus asked, handing Shepard a stack of books that had been in the cabin. He'd never seen her actually read any of them, but he hadn't wanted to leave them behind.

"Efron said they didn't. He mentioned being cold and dark," Shepard said as she arranged the books on the shelf to her liking.

"Efron?" Garrus asked. He'd have to look over the datapads to catch up soon. He hated not knowing the full story.

"The leader of the team," Shepard said. She bit her lip. "Speaking of… Efron was able to skirt through the security of this place."

Garrus froze. "He was here?" he asked sharply.

Shepard nodded as she stood up and walked to the kitchen area. "I was pissed, too, but he's an N7 like me, and an infiltrator to boot. My ego will recover somehow.""

"Don't joke about this, Shepard," Garrus said as he picked up the frame to his old visor, the one carved with the names of his squad on Omega. Funny how this used to feel so heavy in his hands. He placed in the drawer with his civilian clothes; he might not be able to see it, but he would know the visor was there.

"I'm not joking," she said, opening the small refrigerator. She help up a bottle of water. ""Want one?" Garrus nodded. She tossed the plastic bottle across the room, which he caught with one hand as he flipped open his omni-tool. "We don't have to upgrade the security now, Garrus."

"I got a message from Zaeed yesterday," Garrus said casually. "He just wanted to let me know he was in the area.""

"Hell of a subject change, there. Yeah, he's actually working with Jack, helping with the Grissom Academy students." Shepard stopped with her water bottle halfway to her mouth. "Wait… Garrus, no."

"We had some good ideas, Shepard," Garrus said, sending off a text to Zaeed, inviting him over in the next couple of days. "Just ended up drinking too much to try to actually implement them." Then there was the dancing. Lots of dancing. And after the group photo had been taken and everyone went back to drinking, Garrus and Shepard held a dance party of their very own in the privacy of her bedroom. It had been a _good _night.

Shepard let out a huff of a laugh. "Fine. But any use of explosives goes through me," she said, putting her hands on her hips.

Garrus took a swig of his water bottle, being careful not to spill any; he had been thoroughly briefed on how important conserving water was for the time being. Then looking at her, admitted, "I just want you safe, Shepard."

He felt a strange relief saying those words out loud. For so long Garrus kept quiet as he watched Shepard risk her life again and again. During the war, the idea of _safe_ was an illusion; they would never be. But perhaps they could be now.

She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his carapace, just above his waist. "And I want you safe. So we'll go through all the measures and we'll make them better."

He nodded, running a talon down her nose, wondering how badly she must have been burned to make the skin heal a different pigment and wishing he could have been there to help her through everything. A soft keen escaped his sub-vocals and Shepard looked up, meeting his gaze, and tightening her hold. "Shepard?"" he said softly.

"Yeah?" Her hands drifted slightly lower, stroking his waist. She always did know how to read him.

"Work later?"

"Agreed," Shepard said with a smile, just before their mouths met.

Work could wait for the moment.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to theherocomplex for her beta work! Also, there will be no update for this story on Monday. My plan is for there to be an E rated companion to this story, and the first chapter, a continuation of this scene will be posted then. I do not plan on posting the companion to this site. If you would like to read it, you'll be able to find it on AO3 or if you send me a message with your e-mail address, I can e-mail it to you. Thanks!


	7. The Page of Pentacles, Upright

_**The Page of Pentacles, **__Upright: A hardworking man, proud of his responsibilities. He is honorable but may sometimes be a little too overzealous in his duties._

* * *

"You going to tell me why you keep looking over here and smiling, Shepard?" Garrus asked.

They had just stepped off the shuttle into the Orlando sunlight after a quick flight from Cape Canaveral. The shuttle ride was only fifteen minutes long, but it was a shuttle meant for humans. Garrus cracked his neck, feeling a brief respite when the bones gave a satisfying 'pop.' Next to him, Shepard shuddered. She hated the sound of his neck cracking. Always had.

As he stretched his back a bit - he always hoped for a minute after he hopped off the shuttle into a battle zone, though more often than not, he was denied - Garrus looked at the set up.

The buildings were very colorful, which surprised Garrus. Normally the Alliance liked their buildings nondescript, the better to blend in. "Why do the buildings look so damn happy?" Garrus asked Shepard.

"I think these were the administration offices of an amusement park," Shepard said. "Still pretty much in tact, so the Alliance asked if we could use them."

The cheerful colors made a stark contrast to the security surrounding the buildings. Guards were patrolling the perimeter and based on the sniper perches he saw, he would bet credits at least three rifles were trained on them right now. There were even a couple of skycars flying over heard.

"Not taking any chances with security," Garrus muttered.

"Look at us," Shepard said, placing her datapads under her arm. "It's like we time traveled back to the SR-1. I have hair and you're wearing…" She waved her hand over his armor.

"C-Sec light armor," Garrus said with a sigh. With his heavy armor not an option thanks to his back, Garrus had to scramble to find some sort of armor to wear on a regular basis. He refused to conduct his day to day activities in civilian clothes, wanting to always be ready in case something, anything went wrong. Commissioning a custom kit of armor was impossible at the moment. But Garrus still knew people in C-Sec and a surprising number of them made it off of the Citadel, assisting in securing refugee camps across the entire planet. He put out a call, offering a substantial number of energy reserves in exchange for light armor in his size.

The potential barter had led to the first fight he and Shepard had since he moved into their prefab a week ago. She was absolutely obsessed with keeping her omni-tool fully charged at all times and what she called a small stockpile of reserves he called a hoard. He understood why she wanted her tool charged, he did. Without a functioning omni-tool, she had no way to hear anything. But those reserves were the only currency they had; credits were worthless across the galaxy at the moment.

During the fight, Garrus kept waiting for Shepard to shut down. He had been painfully aware that if she wanted, she could withdraw from the conversation completely. Choose not to talk him, like she did after Rannoch, when he had called her out on her decision to let Legion start the upload. Even worse, she could shut off her omni-tool completely and not hear a single word he said.

But she didn't. He could tell how uncomfortable she had been the way her eyes kept moving from the bathroom to the door leading outside. She clearly had wanted to be anywhere but in the prefab there with him. But they stuck it out and in the end, she agreed to use some of their reserves to trade for armor.

"It looks good on you," Shepard said. "I like that shade of blue."

He nodded, accepting the compliment. The truth was he would prefer not to wear this shade of blue again. This color reminded him of Omega and his team and the broken armor he had clung to for so long, needing the physical reminder of his team. The color reminded him of the squad's base, and feeling Shepard's steady hand on his waist as he had saw his own blood pool on the floor after getting hit by the gunship. And when he had commissioned a custom kit of armor on Palaven, he choose a new shade of blue, because it had been time.

Once through security, they were escorted into one of the smaller buildings. "Third door to the left," the Alliance lieutenant said, with a crisp salute. "They know you're here."

"Thank you, LT," Shepard said to the young woman. Once their escort walked off, Shepard shook her head and muttered, "Always so damn young.""

Before they had a chance to walk to the door, Ann Bryson stuck her head out. "Commander!" she said, a smile on her face. "It''s wonderful to see you again."

As Shepard greeted Bryson, Garrus studied her from a distance. Nothing out of the ordinary in her demeanor, not that Garrus had the best knowledge. He and Shepard shared a meal with her once they rescued Bryson from Namalki on the way to the Citadel. And while she might look innocent, she had been a tool of Leviathan, which made her a potential threat.

A salarian walked up next to Bryson as Garrus joined the group. Bryson didn't need to know his concerns for now.

"I believe you've already met Padok Wiks?" Bryson asked.

"Indeed," Wiks said, extending his hand. Garrus looked him over. He was slight, even for a salarian, with brick red tattoos on his face. "Memorable day, wasn't it, Commander?"

"Sur'Kesh was quite the experience," Shepard said, shaking his hand. She gestured towards Garrus. ""And this is-"

Wiks offered his hand to Garrus. "Advisor Vakarian, of course."

Bryson and Wiks led them into their lab, to a small conference table. The lab had certainly seen better days. The tiles were cracked, painted walls chipped and the furniture was battered. But the work stations seemed active and one wall was being used as a white board, with equations written from ceiling to floor. Various relics were scattered about along with a galaxy map in one corner.

"We've have some questions," Shepard said as they all sat down.

"Of course, Commander," Bryson said, shaking her head. "We've been briefed about the murders. It's just awful. Whatever you need."

"We're going on the assumption that Leviathan took over members of the team, like they did with you, Ann," Shepard said. ""But the artifacts were shielded, weren't they?"

"They were," Bryson agreed. She folded her hands in front of her. "But you need to understand, it seemed like the more we studied them the less we understood.""

Wiks stood up and rocked back and forth on his heels. "The amount of dark energy in these artifacts… We can only offer a hypothesis at the moment. But we think the artifacts adapted so they could permeate the shields."

Garrus let that sink in for a moment. "Can they be altered?" he asked.

"They can, but it will be just a matter of time before the artifacts adapt again," Bryson said. "What we've been working on is a personal shield that will vary the frequencies of the shield, which theoretically would keep the artifact from adapting at all."

"Theoretically?" Shepard asked.

"Theories are all we can offer at the moment, Commander," Wiks said apologetically.

"We need to destroy those artifacts," Shepard said, her voice determined. "Can you have this shield ready by the time the relays are up? I can''t risk my team being controlled by Leviathan."

"I believe so," Wiks said. "I've read your reports of your plan, Commander." He sat down and looked eager. "I would like to volunteer my services. I believe my skills and knowledge would be invaluable for this mission. Not to mention my STG background."

Garrus watched as Shepard studied Wiks. "What are your skills?" she asked after a moment.

"I am quite proficient in technical skills and in biotics," Wiks said. He leaned forward. "I have studied the artifacts extensively and would be able to make any necessary adjustments to the shields."

Shepard smiled and reached her hand across the table. "You're in," she said as they shook hands. Garrus made a note to do a thorough background check on Wiks, find out if he had been in any contact with Reaper tech, see if there was anything in his history that could jeopardize the mission. If Shepard refused to have a sense of caution, he would have one for her.

"Excellent!" Wiks said. "You should be aware, for the record, that Commander Rentola was a good friend of mine. It is imperative that we discover what happened and prevent this from occurring again."

"Understood, Wiks," Shepard said. "Appreciate the honesty."

"What we really need to develop over the next two months is a way to track the artifacts," Bryson said. "We working on prototype, but it's not ready to test."

"I thought there was a way to trace them already," Garrus asked, trying not to fidget in his chair. It was not built for turians.

"When the artifacts are active, yes, we can reasonably trace both Leviathan and the artifact. What we need is to figure out a way to track inert artifacts."

"There isn't one on Earth, is there?" Shepard asked quickly.

Bryson and Wiks looked at each other slowly. "Well, we don't believe so, not on Earth," Bryson said, dragging the words out.

Sitting straight up, ignoring the protest his lower back made, Garrus asked, "What happened to the one on the Citadel?"

"That's the thing," Bryson said, her shoulders hunched. "We don't exactly know."

"You don't know?" Shepard asked, each word a staccato beat.

"It was shielded on the ship where we were living," Wiks said. "But once the Crucible made it to Earth, our ship was hit and we had to evacuate. Neither one of us thought to bring the artifact with us."

Garrus stood up then, tensing as he heard the legs of the chair scrape the floor. The chair was too uncomfortable to sit in any longer. He had hoped meeting with the scientists would clear up some of their questions, instead only more and more were created. "Was the ship destroyed?" Garrus asked.

"Not completely."

"So we find the ship," Garrus said, trying not to sound annoyed. Neither one of them thought, indeed.

Standing up, Shepard shook her head. "You know how many destroyed ships and dead Reapers are in orbit right now? It'd be impossible to find one ship."

Garrus had read the reports and saw some of the footage as the _Normandy_ made its way to Earth. A ship's graveyard, they were calling it. Dead Reapers, destroyed ships of all different races… It was a scavenger's paradise up in orbit.

The look on Shepard's face was one he had only seen once before: when she had made that impossible jump into the _Normandy _after destroying the Collector Base. Her face had terrified him then, thinking she wasn't going to make the jump and made his plates run cold now. An unshielded artifact orbiting Earth…

"That's why we need figure out how to make this tracker," Bryson said, almost as an after thought.

"Okay," Shepard said, crossing her arms over her chest. Garrus let his mandibles flare in a grin. He recognized her tone. This was Shepard's patented _you have a problem and I will find you a solution or die trying _tone. "What do you need?"

"It's the dark energy that's causing issues in the prototype. Neither Bryson or I have experience in that field," Wiks said apologetically.

"Not to mention figuring our how the dark energy integrates with the artifacts. If that problem could be solved, then I'm sure we could complete the tracker and learn if the artifact is still in orbit," Bryson said.

Shepard went still. "So what you're saying is you need an expert in xenotechnology and dark energy integration?"

"Exactly, Commander," Bryson said with a smile. "We've checked with all scientists in the Crucible project but none of them have those skill specialties."

"I know someone on Sur'Kesh, but that does us no good," Wiks added.

Shepard let out a bark of a laugh. "I think I know someone," she said, shaking her head.

"Really? Here on Earth?" Bryson said. Shepard nodded. "That's perfect. Who?"

Turning to look at Garrus, Shepard smiled, her lips pursed together tightly. "Dr. Conrad Verner."

* * *

"Commander Shepard!"

Shepard watched Jenna walk over, shoulders slumped. Even at a bit of a distance, she could see Jenna radiating misery. "Everything okay?"

"Girlfriend broke up with me last night," Jenna said, kicking a rock of dirt on the ground. That answered Shepard's mystery, at least. "For an asari! Works at one the strip clubs they've set up. I knew she was going over there a lot, but she just said she was stressed, you know?" Jenna put the heel of her palm up to her forehead. "Sorry, you didn't come here to listen to my problems. Conrad's going to be so happy to see you. When I told him he missed your last visit, he was devastated."

"I actually stopped by to talk to Conrad," Shepard told her. "He free?"

"I think he's helping a kid right now, but let me take you over there," Jenna said.

Jenna took her to a nearby tent. As they walked, Shepard smiled at the sound of kids playing nearby. The camp was cleaner than some of the refugee camps she'd been in. Shepard had asked Jenna about it once and was told that all the kids had a daily chore to do. With so many kids, they had to be creative and some of them swept the pathways every single day.

"I'm gonna die!"

Shepard tensed and with a hand on her pistol, looked into the tent. Conrad was kneeling next to a volus, who sounded like she was crying uncontrollably. He put his hands on her shoulders. "You're not going to die, Darja, I promise you, okay?""

The girl kept shaking her head wildly. "It's too tight!" Her voice rattled through her suit's speakers and she sounded like she was clawing for each breath. "It's gonna burst and I'm gonna die!"

"Look at me, Darja," Conrad said, his voice steady. "Look. At. Me."

Shepard watched as Conrad told the little girl to breath with him. As they started breathing, Conrad glanced up at Shepard and mouthed 'sorry.' She had never actually seen Conrad work one on one with any of the kids before. He would always take her to large groups, wanting her to spend time with as many as possible.

To see Conrad like this, in control and helping this little girl was eye-opening. This was not the same man who accused her of shoving a gun in his face two years ago.

It took a few minutes, but the girl stopped crying and started taking regular breaths.

"Go play with your friends, Darja, I need to talk to Commander Shepard here," Conrad said.

"Okay, Mister Conrad," Darja said, her voice hiccuping slightly. She waved at Shepard as she waddled out of the tent. "Hiya, Commander!"

Shepard smiled as she waved back. "Hiya, Darja," she said, watching the girl totter towards a group of nearby kids.

"Commander Shepard!" Conrad stood up, his smile wide. "It's so good to see you again. Commander, I am so sorry I missed your last visit."

Like so many other men, Conrad now wore a beard instead of a goatee. Shepard sometimes wondered how long it would be before the goatee came back in style. But even with the change in facial hair, he was still Conrad, anxious and over-eager to please. That hadn't changed one bit.

"Why was that little girl upset?" Shepard asked. She knew it was none of her business, but she couldn't help herself.

"Because she's growing up and getting too big for her suit. There aren't many volus on Earth right now and none of them have a suit to spare. If I can't find at the very least some material to patch her suit, give her some breathing room…" Conrad shook his head. Shepard was surprised to notice his fists clench. "There're some on the black market, but I can't afford their prices. None of them are even willing to donate a little bit." He looked dejected, his shoulders hunched. "Commander, I know I've made some odd requests over the years, but if you can somehow manage to get the material-"

"I'll find some," Shepard said immediately. "Send me the specs and I'll make sure we get some."

"Oh, thank you, Shepard," Conrad said, his relief palpable. "Thank you so much."

"It's not a problem at all," Shepard said. She looked at his beaming face and wondered just how exactly she tripped onto the pedestal he put her on. "Conrad, do think there's a place we could talk?"

Conrad's eyes went wide. "Did I do some-" He stopped and took a breath. "Is everything okay? You don't usually want to talk when you stop by."

That was true. Her previous visits were to show support for the children and to let her mind wander, thinking about the future she thought she'd never have. Shepard hadn't realized she telegraphed her desire to be alone so openly. That Conrad picked up on that surprised her. From their various interactions, she knew he didn't exactly have what could be considered people skills.

"Things are fine for now," Shepard said. "But I have a question to ask you. Preferably in private."

"Okay," Conrad said, each syllable drawn out and enunciated. There was still a slight edge of worry to his features. "My tent has some privacy, if you don't mind going there."

He started walking and motioned her to follow. As they walked, kids ran up to them, saying hi to Mister Conradand the Commander. "So I heard the _Normandy_ made it back to Earth," Conrad said as they walked. "You must have been happy."

"To put it mildly," Shepard said, thinking of the past two weeks since the ship had docked. She and Garrus had friends visit the prefab almost every evening. And each morning they woke up together. Happy was an understatement, she thought as she smiled to herself.

"Here we go," Conrad said, stepping into a tall tent. There was a folding table and two chairs in the middle with a sleeping pallet hiding in the back. "I always thought the _Normandy_ seemed like a family more than just soldiers on the same ship. I'd watch those _Battlespace_ reports and everyone just seemed so proud to be serving on that ship. But how could they not be proud, serving under you."

"A family's a good way to describe it," Shepard said.

"Family's nice," Conrad said, his eyes blinking rapidly. Shepard bit her lip, remembering the conversation she had with him on the Citadel, admitting he had no family or friends.

They sat down at the folding table. "I need your help, Conrad," Shepard said, trying to fight the smile that was threatening to spill onto her face. For more than four years Conrad wanted to help in any way possible and now she was finally able to give him a chance to do so. And Conrad was surprisingly the right choice for this mission. Shepard had checked the Alliance database, which held the records of the various war assets. According to the notes, his dissertation had proved quite useful in the construction of the Crucible.

"My help?" Conrad asked, sitting up straighter in his chair. "Of course, Shepard, anything I can do."

"I'm working on a mission," Shepard told him as Conrad leaned toward her, as if he were worried he might miss a single word. "And the scientists I'm working with say they need someone new on the team. Someone with dark energy and xenotechnology experience."

Shepard smiled broadly, waiting for Conrad's response. Instead of an eager nod of the head and a handshake like she expected, Conrad stood up and faced away from the table, his neck bowed. "You want me to go back into a lab," he said flatly, his voice on the verge of shattering.

"Well, you provided your dissertation…" Shepard trailed off, confused by his response.

"I wrote that fifteen years ago," Conrad said, turning around again. He started staring at the floor. "Giving you a paper is a lot different than stepping foot into a lab; actually studying dark energy again…" Conrad shivered and looked her right in the eye. His voice was quiet. "I would have died for you, Commander, you know that. Please don't ask me to do this."

_What had he seen?_

He looked like a soldier who had seen one too many battles and then told that he had no choice but to go out and fight again. Lost and maybe more than a little broken.

Shepard had known that feeling, felt it herself when she heard Miranda yelling at her to get up off the table on the Lazarus Station. But she fought it and pushed the feeling aside.

Conrad obviously was still living with it.

Her toes clenched, the only outward sign of her disappointment. Shepard felt like an absolute idiot. She had just assumed that Conrad would be more than happy to join her cause and fulfill his dream of working with her. But looking at him now? Seeing his face? Something must have happened to make him leave his lab and never turn back; turned him into a man who thought he could be a Spectre who took down red sand dealers and here she was, trying to drag him back in.

"Alright, Conrad," Shepard said, keeping her voice soft and making sure no regret bled through. "I understand."

She stood up and nodded, silently saying goodbye. She'd go talk to some of the children, make sure Conrad knew she didn't take his rejection personally. There had to be someone in the area who could help. Perhaps the quarians, they had studied dark energy at Haelstrom, maybe one of their researchers were on Earth.

As she stepped out of the tent, she heard Conrad say, in a voice so soft she almost missed it, "Wait." His voice grew stronger. "Commander, wait."

Shepard turned and looked back at Conrad. "Yes?"

"You know what I'm trying to instill in these kids? I want to teach them to help those in need. That's what I want them to learn, more than math, more than science. I want them to grow up thinking that helping their fellow beings is not just the right thing to do, but the _only_ thing." Conrad took a breath and walked over to her. "What sort of role model would I be if Commander Shepard of all people asked _me_ for help and I turned her down?"

And to think at one point Shepard rolled her eyes at this man and thought him a fool. "So you'll help?"

"Some details might be nice," Conrad said, cocking his head with a grin. "But yes, Shepard. I'll help."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to theherocomplex for her beta work!


	8. The Three of Swords, Reversed

_**The Three of Swords, Reversed: **__Spiritual and mental confusion, loss or discord. Physical or mental disorder._

* * *

"Tell me you have good news, Shepard," Hackett called out from his desk even before security finished confirming her ID.

Shepard tried to keep the smile off of her face as she walked inside Hackett's office where he and Rear Admiral Caleb Antella of the Department of Internal Naval Affairs had been waiting patiently. Both men stood as she entered. Once the door was safely closed, Shepard walked up to Antella and held out her hand. ""Congratulations, Councilor."

Antella, a slight man of European and Asian ancestry, eagerly shook her hand. Hackett pounded the knuckles of his hand once on the table, more emotion than Shepard had seen from him in quite a while. "About damn time," Hackett said. "About damn time."

"The Council said that all pertinent information will be sent by courier later this afternoon and you're to start attending the sessions tomorrow, Councilor," Shepard said.

The list of potential candidates to replace Udina had been smaller than the Alliance would like to admit. At first, Shepard didn't like the idea of a Councilor from the Alliance. There was a growing sentiment among the humans on Earth that the Alliance controlled too much of humanity''s future as it was. But the Reapers dealt a huge blow to humanity's government when they destroyed Arcturus Station, killing all of Parliament.

The simple matter was there weren't all that many qualified people to step into the role of Councilor living on Earth. Their options seemed to be military or corporate executives. In the end, military seemed like the lesser of two evils as Shepard didn't fully trust an executive to put the well being of the galaxy above the well being of their stockholders.

Though only recently promoted to Rear Admiral, Antella had quite the reputation throughout the Alliance. He was instrumental in uncovering the corruption in the Naval Exploration Flotilla two years ago. And while others tried to hush the scandal, Antella called for more and more transparency.

Hackett had also told her that Antella led the charge back when she worked with Cerberus, wanting to bring her in for questioning. She certainly didn't doubt his commitment to the Alliance. Hopefully, he'd be able to use that same work ethic for all the peoples of the galaxy now.

As pleased as Shepard was that humanity was getting a seat on the Council again, she wished it felt more than just a pat on the head for giving in to all of their requests. Bequeathing the _Normandy_ to the Council, taking charge on the Leviathan investigation, every time the Council wanted the Alliance to do something, they complied.

"We'll want regular briefings, Councilor," Hackett said, placing his hand on Antella's shoulder.

"Of course, sir," Antella said. "I won't let you down."

"You're above my pay grade now, Councilor, so no more 'sirs' from you, understood?" Hackett asked.

"Understood, Admiral," Antella said with a grin. Shepard couldn't keep herself from chuckling. She liked the guy already. Would be a nice change from Udina.

"You'll have an office here at Headquarters, but you should spend as much time as you can in the Councilor's Building,"" Hackett said, opening his omni-tool and gesturing, sending over information. "Here is a list of qualified aides. You'll probably need two or three."

"I'll make that decision soon," Antella said, looking down at his uniform. He picked at the collar. ""Never thought I'd wear anything but Alliance colors. Suppose this means I should get some new clothes."

"They make the man, so I'm told," Shepard said.

Shepard thought about her own retirement, which was to take place the day the _Normandy _left Earth. Almost half her life she had been an Alliance soldier. First a grunt, then picked for officer training, to the N7 program. To suddenly be considered an advisor or an consultant, knowing if anyone called her _Commander_ it would be only an honorary title, stung. Especially considering she had no choice due to an injury she received in the life of duty.

"You have a lot of work to do, Antella," Hackett said. "Don't let them hold you back."

"Or push you around," Shepard said seriously. She knew from discussions with Anderson when he had been a Councilor, how frustrated he had become when they almost seemingly dismissed him and his concerns. Humanity couldn''t afford that. They needed to be seen as equals with the rest of the Council.

"I won't," Antella said, standing a little straighter. "I better get to it."

Hackett held up his hand. "Let's make sure we're all on the same page about Leviathan."" Shepard nodded, and all three of them sat down. "What's your status, Shepard?"

She should have written the damn report. Two weeks had passed since being assigned this mission and every day seemed like there was no chance to catch their breath. They were trying to catch up in a race where they couldn't see the opponent ahead of them.

"We've added an additional scientist to the team and they're hoping to have a tracker for the artifacts and a personal shield ready to test in less than a month," Shepard told them. She would be flying with Conrad to Orlando in two days.

"How's recruitment going for the mission?" Hackett asked.

"Haven't decided on ground teams yet, but I'm almost finished recruiting the Alliance crew,"" Shepard said.

If the _Normandy _had been running a skeleton crew before, for this mission, the ship would be a ghost town. During the war, they had fifty-four crew members, including the squad. For this mission, Shepard wanted to keep the number under thirty, if possible. The usual suspects would be there; Shepard had found the time to speak to Joker, Traynor, Cortez, Chakwas and Adams, who all agreed to take part.

The only two to decline so far were Gabby and Ken because of the baby. Gabby was due in less than three months now. Shepard would miss them. While they were all engineers, Shepard's specialty was structural and combat engineering. She knew very little of the minutia and needs of a spaceship engineer. During their time together on the SR-2, Shepard loved sitting with them in engineering and having them teach her as much as possible. In turn, she gave them safety versions of her combat drone and turret and refereed more than one mock battle in the cargo hold between the two of them.

The next step would be choosing the ground teams for the mission. Shepard was adamant that she make all the choices this time, unlike the previous ones where they were chosen for her or happened along almost by default. Granted everyone of them worked out, but she wanted to make the determination of who and who should not be on her squad.

Antella looked at a datapad. "And you're meeting with Efron today?"

Shepard nodded. Efron was being held in Rio De Janeiro, in the Villa. The thinking was he needed to be kept far from Cape Canaveral in case Leviathan could control him somehow, especially if there was an artifact in orbit. So many variables. "He's been cooperative so far, but the turian Hierarchy has questions. Advisor Vakarian will be questioning him."

"Well, keep us updated, Shepard," Hackett said briskly. "Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir," Shepard said. Time to go to Rio.

* * *

**Rio De Janeiro, The Federal Republic of Brazil**

"You're alright with me doing the talking?" Garrus asked as they stopped before the gate leading into the complex.

"The turian Hierarchy requested this meeting," Shepard smiled, poking him on the shoulder. "I''m simply the Alliance representative." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe you'll be able to use those investigator skills of yours, find out something new."

"Here's hoping," Garrus said. "And you're okay with leaving the room for a bit during the session?"

"Do you really think he'll tell you something that he hasn't told us, just because you're not Alliance?" Shepard asked. Her look was skeptical.

The few N7s he met over the years all seemed to have the same character flaw: they wanted to look their best to their superiors, including Shepard.

Over the years, he had watched her spend hours trying to word a report just right; telling the absolute truth but putting herself in the best light. It was very possible Efron might be more agreeable speaking to someone not in the Alliance.

And Spirits, did Garrus have questions.

Going through the Leviathan Enthrallment Team reports while he worked to get back into shape had been a long and arduous task since he was released from the field hospital. The reports, quite honestly, scared him. Those artifacts were all over the galaxy, at least sixty of them, and most likely more. If Leviathan decided to use them all at once… Well, he and Shepard would have to have a plan in case that happened. He just wished his first draft consisted more than the words 'oh crap.'

Shepard pressed the call button on the panel. Within minutes, an Alliance lieutenant, who apparently believed in the Jimmy Vega theory of uniforms, led them into the building. The inside was bland; nothing stood out. Reminded him of the ruins on Therum, actually. Sterile white and homey as Wrex had described it.

"How long did you train here?" Garrus asked Shepard in a low voice.

"N7 training lasts two years," Shepard said. "About four months for each rank. Survive N6 and you''re an N7."

Garrus cataloged the information away. There was still so much they didn't know about each other. Funny how he was closer to her than anyone in the galaxy and there were still things he hadn't told her. For now he was content knowing he had the chance to tell her at all. He had a lot he'd like to tell her one day.

They were led to a small conference room, reminding him of the interrogation rooms on the Citadel. "How's he been?" Shepard asked.

"Fine," the lieutenant said with a shrug. "Very cooperative."

"Good," Shepard said, nodding her head. "Bring him in."

Garrus took a look at his datapad, where he already had a list of questions which weren't answered to his satisfaction in the reports. He knew the team was busy, but their reports were laughable. Barely gave any information. Shepard started to sit down at the table, but Garrus touched her shoulder. ""Don't sit down yet."

She looked at him incredulously. "I was just teasing when I said use your interrogation skills. You know that, right?" Shepard said.

"The team that he is responsible for has led to the death of three people, Shepard," Garrus said, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't like the way his armor fit his shoulders. He needed to break them in more. If not for his damn back, he could be in heavy armor; he'd gotten used to how heavy armor made him look more imposing, more threatening. "This is absolutely an interrogation.""

She blinked rapidly. Garrus waited for her to protest, to say that they'd ask the questions together. Instead, she held up her hands and said, "I said you could do the talking. I''m not changing my mind on that."

"Thank you," Garrus said. Felt strange to have her at his six for once and not the other way around. But there was no doubt she'd support him as best she could.

The doors opened and the lieutenant ushered Major Efron inside the room. Garrus was surprised to see he wasn't cuffed, but supposed the man wasn't technically under arrest. Efron sat down right away and looked up at them both.

"Efron, this is Advisor Garrus Vakarian, representing the turian Hierarchy," Shepard said. Garrus' neck warmed a bit as he recognized the pride in her voice as she spoke. She sat down at the table, though not directly across from Efron. "He's on my team and would like to ask you some questions."

Garrus stood while he felt Efron take stock of him. Let him look, Garrus thought. While the two weeks hadn't erased all the damage of the last four months, they had certainly improved him. At least he was eating food again - if you can call MREs and rations food - and not those horrible liquid meals. And in another week, he had clearance to lift weights again.

"C-Sec?" Efron finally asked.

"Former."

Efron nodded, and blew out air out of his lips. "Any news on my team? Tolan?"

Garrus wanted to laugh. Typical N7, trying to control the flow of the conversation by asking the questions instead of answering them. There were times Shepard did the exact same thing. He wondered which level of N-training they had been taught the technique.

Shepard shook her head. None of the Enthrallment Team wanted to talk, perhaps not willing to implicate themselves any further. Frustrating as all hell to know they had to wait another six weeks or so before they could talk to the team in person.

"Then what do you want to know?"

Garrus sat down, leaning back slightly, leaving his posture open. For now he was content to play good cop. Next to him, Shepard brought up her omni-tool to record the conversation. "The reports never said. How did the team communicate with Leviathan?"

"We didn't," Efron said, taking a deep breath. "Once the team formed, our first order of business was to get as many of those artifacts from Despoina as we could. I think we took sixty in all. My job was to figure out where to deploy them. Each member of the team had access to a small scouting ship. I'd send them all over."

"They worked alone?" Garrus asked.

"Yes," Efron said. "Didn't want to chance the Reapers noticing a squad. So they'd drop off the artifact and Leviathan just knew."

"Who chose the drop sites?"

"I did," Efron said. "I worked out of the _Saltzburg._ I'd get the latest intel from HQ and choose from there. I wanted them spread out, all across the galaxy. Less of a chance of the Reapers meeting up to compare notes."

"How many artifacts actually were deployed?"

"Nine." Efron let out a deep breath. "By the time we got the team together and picked up the artifacts, we only had two weeks before the Citadel moved to Earth. Doesn't even seem like it was worth it. I read the reports. They didn't change a damn thing. Colonies still were wiped out."

"But they worked?" Garrus asked. "Leviathan took over the Reaper troops?"

Efron shrugged. "They didn't bother to kill another Reaper like they did on Despoina, though. But yeah. We dropped them off and they controlled the ground troops.""

"Giving Leviathan the chance to observe," Garrus noted.

"Exactly," Efron said, nodding. "But they couldn't observe everything. We had them shielded at all times. The only time they weren't shielded was when the team dropped them off."

"So each team member had a certain number of artifacts?" Garrus asked.

"Seems stupid now, doesn't it? Would have been a hell of a lot easier if we had them all in one place," Efron said, running his hand through his hair.

"What can you tell me about Tolan?"

"He was last assigned to Bekenstein in the Boltzmann system," Efron said. "He's the most resourceful of anyone on my team. STG like Rentola. Infiltration's his speciality. And for the record, he seems to have a personal grudge against you, Shepard."

Her eyebrows shot up at her name. "Really," she said. Garrus didn't look over at her, but could feel her body tense.

Nodding, Efron said, "Blames you for the Reapers attacking Sur'Kesh. Blames you for the genophage cure, basically blames you for every bad thing that's ever happened."

Garrus knew there were people out there who felt the same way. Shepard had been the most visible symbol fighting the Reapers; he wasn't surprised some hated her for it. He just wished Lieutenant Tolan wasn't one of those folks.

He glanced over his notes. "Did you leave any of the artifacts on Despoina?"

"We did. Thought it made sense to leave Leviathan some protection from the Reapers, not that they needed it apparently."

Garrus's mind started turning. They could send an unmanned shuttle down to the surface of Despoina, see if Leviathan shot it down. He couldn't risk saying that to Shepard, not when it was possible Leviathan was somehow listening through Efron.

Efron leaned his elbows on the table, fists clenched. "There's at least another planet," he said, ""where there are Leviathan. Wiks and Bryson tried to find it, but didn't have any luck. Otherwise I'd tell you to just nuke the whole damn planet and be done with them.""

Shepard stood up quickly, the legs of her chairs scratching against the floor. She turned her back to them and stared into a corner. "That's a last resort,"" she said sharply.

"Maybe it shouldn't be," Efron said.

"We haven't even tried talking to them," Shepard said. She wrapped her arms around her midsection. Garrus could see the tension rising, the muscles in her neck taunt. "We've just gone ahead and assumed their intentions are hostile."

"Shepard, they took over my team. Killed people," Efron spat. "You know what they're capable of."

"I am not," Shepard spun around, her eyes flashing, "going to advocate for the death of another species. We have time."" Shepard glanced over her shoulder, letting air rush out of her lungs. "There was no time when it came to the rachni or the batarians or the geth. We don't have to rush into this.""

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm going to get a drink of water."

In two steps she was out of the room. Garrus was very still as he thought over what Shepard just said. He turned to look at Efron, who was studying him intently. Garrus stared right back, not averting his gaze. Efron looked a different man from the one led into this room. Garrus was looking at Efron, the N7. Not the Enthrallment Team Leader, not an Alliance Major. An N7. "Say it," Garrus finally said.

"You willing to hear it?" Efron asked, his tone skeptical. Garrus nodded. Tapping his fingers on the table, Efron asked, "Have you considered Shepard might be compromised?"

For the first time since Garrus learned of Shepard's deafness, he envied her. What he would give not to have heard that question from Efron and ignore the evidence in front of him. Garrus wanted to look away, but didn't. He would tell Efron the truth, feeling like he was betraying Shepard as he did. "I've considered the possibility, yes."

There it was. The harsh truth Garrus hadn't wanted to think about between reading the reports of the Leviathan Team and catching Shepard talking to Legion. The horrible 'what if'' moment was etched in his skull. They had been sitting on the sofa reading datapads, Shepard's thighs across his lap. He had reached over, running his talons through her hair when he wondered if there was a chance Leviathan hadn't let her go.

Efron nodded, a look of approval on his face. Garrus looked away. He didn't want the man's approval. "Good. I read the reports. They were in her head, Vakarian-"

"I'm aware of that," Garrus said, the words coming out sharper than he intended. He took a deep breath to steady himself and leaned his forearms on the table. "They didn't control her. They only spoke to her."

"Because they realized they needed her to defeat the Reapers," Efron said. "They could have killed her without a second thought.""

"Leviathan can kill anyone within a close radius of those damn artifacts without a second thought," Garrus said. They wouldn't, not if they wanted the tribute Garrus suspected they were looking for. To get that tribute, they needed thralls. This was a dangerous enemy. They wouldn't come out guns blazing like the Reapers. Leviathan would slither, blanketing beings with a fog before they even knew where to look.

"True," Efron admitted. "I just needed to say to say something, just in case."

"I'm keeping a close eye on her, Efron," Garrus said, thinking of the suicides across the galaxy thanks to indoctrination. Damn Reapers. They were gone and still ruining people's lives.

Efron looked down at the table then. "Good," he said. "That''s good."

The doors opened and Shepard stepped back into the room. "Sorry about that," she said, sliding into her chair.

"I think we're done here, Shepard," Garrus said. He stood up and after a moment, extended his hand. ""Thanks for the help, Efron."

Nodding, Efron shook Garrus' hand. Just one beat. Like a turian.

Efron and Shepard then shook hands as well. "We'll let you know if we have more questions."

Garrus watched Shepard glance into the corner of the room again as they left. The walk out of the compound was in silence. He continued to say nothing until they were past the heavy gates, well on their way to the shuttle. After he did a quick sweep to make sure there were no listening devices within earshot, Garrus asked quietly, but not accusingly, "Legion again?"

She stopped walking at once. He watched her face cycle through a number of different emotions. Anger, sadness and relief all mixed up in one. "No, not Legion," she said finally, her voice soft. ""Hadley. Dr. Bryson's assistant."

Garrus ran his hand over his fringe. He should have called her out on this sooner, once he had been released from the hospital. Then again, he shouldn't have had to ask. She should have _told_ him something wasn''t quite right. Instead, they'd played house for the last two weeks, pretending things were fine as they planned the mission. "Why would you keep this from me?""

Shepard flinched at hearing the disappointment in his sub-vocals. Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hand, she said, "I don't know."

He heard the honesty in her voice but it didn't dull the hurt. "You want to tell me about it now?" Garrus asked.

She nodded. "But not here. When we get home."

_Home._

He did like how that sounded. "At home."

The shuttle ride back was tense, with neither one of them speaking much, except to ask and answer quick questions. Once they stepped in their prefab, Garrus scanned for the usual listening devices and came up empty. They could talk freely now.

Shepard wrapped her arms around his carapace and leaned against him. "That was the fourth time," she said, her voice quiet. "They don't talk to me. They just sit or stand there."

Resting his chin on her head, Garrus closed his eyes tightly. "They haven't tried to tell you to do anything?"

"What?" Shepard stepped back like she had been burned. "No, absolutely not. It's PTSD, Garrus."

"What if it's not?"

Her face looked stricken. "What, you think I'm-" She stood up straight and pulled on her hair slightly. She took a breath and looked at him, determination coming off of her in waves. "No." She shook her head. "I''m not indoctrinated. I made a choice, Garrus. I'm not."

"Alright," Garrus said slowly. Sitting down wearily on the sofa, he felt like he had aged ten years in the last five minutes. He closed his eyes. He thought he would never have to do this again. Nineteen times he had to sit in the loft, across from Shepard and ask her a single question. Nineteen damn times he had to hold his breath, waiting for her response, praying to the Spirits that this week indoctrination hadn't taken root so he wouldn't be forced to kill her because of a wrong answer. ""What if worst case happens with Leviathan? They want to take over the galaxy again?"

"We stop them," Shepard said at once. "I didn't live through this war to become a thrall." She sat down next to him on the sofa, though not touching. Her voice was quiet. "You know I trust you, Garrus. The questions were your idea-"

"Once a week," Garrus said, interrupting. Asking those questions during the war hadn't been for her. They had been for him. He hadn''t trusted himself not to ignore the warning signs. But if he had asked the question and her answer was anything other than 'Destroy the Reapers…' Well, that he couldn''t ignore. He wouldn't. "I'll ask and if your answer changes, I''ll know what to do."

"You don't have to take this on yourself, Garrus," Shepard said softly. "Someone else-"

"It has to be me," Garrus snapped, placing his hand on her cheek, trying to dull the harshness of his tone. She was the love of _his _life, not someone else''s. If the unthinkable happened, he needed his finger to be on the trigger, not someone else's. And then it would be his burden to carry for the rest of his life,_ not_ _someone else__'s._

"Alright then," Shepard said, reaching up and grabbing his hand. Garrus could see the pain in her eyes and was sure his own was reflected there. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. "Once a week."

He squeezed her hand tightly. It had to be him. She didn't deserve anything less. "Once a week."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to theherocomplex for her beta work! Also, I'm finding that in order to keep the quality of the story where I want it to be, I'm going to need to slow down my posting schedule. From here on out, I'll be posting a chapter every five days instead of twice a week. So the next update will be on Saturday, December 7th. Thank you for understanding!


	9. The Eight of Cups, Upright

_**The Eight of Cups, Upright:** A turning point, a severing of links with the past. A turning away from established relationships to facilitate progress_

* * *

"So this is Alliance Headquarters?" Conrad asked, looking around skeptically. "I thought it'd be bigger."

"This is just a temporary headquarters," Shepard told him, trying to look at the building through his eyes. The old administration building was certainly worn down with discolored cement walls and the occasional cracked window. Paths were worn across the no longer green grass. Bits of broken tech and furniture were scattered across the yard. Compared to the majestic lawns and building of the main Alliance Buildings before the war, and the area was a dump. But it did the job it needed to do. "You should have seen the office in Vancouver."

He shrugged. "I've seen vids."

"Alright, Conrad, let's get you set up," Shepard said, trying to hold back a smile.

A few days had passed since Conrad agreed to help the science team. Shepard had hoped he could start working right away, but Conrad insisted that he needed time to finish up a few things with the Shepards, such as patching Darja's suit once the material was delivered. Shepard explained the situation to Garrus, who then spoke to the highest ranking volus on Earth. After a bit of persuasion, they were able to get enough material to allow Darja to be comfortable again.

"ID, please, Commander," the guard at the gate said. Shepard showed her ID card while the guard scanned Conrad's ID. The guard's omni-tool flashed and she held up her hand apologetically. "You're cleared to go in, Commander Shepard. Mister Verner, you'll have to wait outside."

"Doctor Verner, actually. And hold up," Shepard said, raising her hand. "Ensign, he's with me."

"He's listed as a terrorist, ma'am," the guard said, reading her omni-tool. "And he's got an outstanding warrant for harassment."

Shepard sighed. "Never gonna be easy with you, is it, Conrad?"

"Never's a strong word, Shepard," Conrad said. To the ensign, he added, "I can explain. Honest."

"How long were you actually with Cerberus, Conrad?" Shepard asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Two weeks. I joined right before the Coup attempt," he said. "But I stopped being Cerberus as soon as you told me to, really I did."

"Look, Ensign, I appreciate that you're doing your job, but he was only Cerberus for two weeks. I worked with Cerberus for six months. Why don't we just let bygones by bygones?" Shepard said, her voice low.

The ensign grinned. "I wish I could help, ma'am. But there's still the matter of the warrant for his arrest"

"What was that for?" Conrad asked, spreading his hands at his side. "No one ever told me about this." He scratched the side of his neck. "A warrant's a big deal. You'd think they'd let me know."

"Why does the Alliance want to arrest him?" Shepard asked, looking up at the gray sky and trying not to roll her eyes.

"Organizing weekly online protests that kept crashing the Alliance's extranet site."

Shepard paused. She looked at the ensign and then back at Conrad. "Is that true, Conrad?"

Conrad seemed very interested in his hands. "Well, yes," he said, looking up. "I got the idea from this really old vid. A prisoner wrote the government once a week for _years_ and finally they gave in-"

Holding up her hand, Shepard said, trying and failing to keep the exasperation out of her voice, "What in the universe were you protesting?"

"Oh, it was when the Alliance had you locked up. It just wasn't right," Conrad said. "So I thought I'd get a few hundred of my closest extranet friends every week to tell them so."

She was strangely touched by the effort he had gone on her behalf. The amount of time and dedication to gather enough people to bring out the Alliance extranet site would have been considerable. It was certainly more than some people she knew had done. "Thank you, Conrad. I think," Shepard said. Conrad smiled broadly at the praise. To the ensign, Shepard asked, "Look, do we really need this song and dance? Hold me responsible for anything bad that happens-"

"Which nothing will, Shepard, I promise."

"See, he promises," Shepard said. "Please don't make me make this an order, Ensign."

The ensign shifted her weight from foot to foot as she looked at Shepard. Blowing out air loudly through her lips, she said, "Okay, go on in."

"Thank you, Ensign," Shepard said, nodding her head. "Your assistance is much appreciated." She looked at Conrad. "Grab your bag and let's go."

Conrad complied, and they walked into the building to the main administration office. A yeoman practically bouncing on his toes, holding a cup of coffee, walked up to them. "Yeoman Lin," he said quickly, the words shooting out of his mouth. He extended his hand, barely giving Shepard enough time to shake it before gesturing towards the desk. "We've got all of Dr. Verner's paperwork ready."

"Perfect," Shepard said as she followed Lin to a nearby desk.

Lin handed Conrad a stack of five datapads. "We'll need you to sign all of these."

"Standard non-disclosure agreements, I take it?" Conrad said, looking at the first datapad. Lin nodded and Conrad sighed and shook his head. "Do you know how many of these I've had to sign in my life? I wish I could just wear a sign around my neck saying 'I promise I won't talk.'"

Conrad completed the datawork efficiently, his eyes moving over over every line of text. One done, Lin handed Conrad an official Alliance contractor ID badge. Conrad looked at the badge, his head tilted slightly before a smile crossed his lips. "Huh. We're co-workers now, Commander."

"Alright, Conrad," Shepard said, finding herself pleased with his enthusiasm. There was a marked difference from the other day when he looked at her with terror in his eyes, asking her not to make him go back into a lab. Shepard much preferred his eagerness. "We've got a shuttle waiting to take us to Orlando."

They walked in silence to the shuttle launch pad. Shepard waved to the pilot, missing Cortez's steady presence at the helm. She had grown used to and very much appreciated his skill and calm demeanor taking her into battle. At least Cortez would be joining them on the _Normandy._

"You seem excited," Shepard remarked, as they sat down.

"Well, a bit. If you make up your mind to do something, no point being miserable about it, right? So I'll make the best of being back in a lab and remind myself that I'm helping people," Conrad said, folding his hands in his lap. "Your scientists have been very generous with their information. I had some catching up to do on the latest research."

"Anything worth mentioning?" Shepard said as the shuttle took off.

"Actually, yes, there has been," Conrad said, opening up his omni-tool. "It seems some quarians recovered data from a planet named Haestrom that proved a few of my theories."

"I ended up helping the quarian team get that data," Shepard said. "What was the theory?"

He chuckled. "It really is a small universe when it comes to you, isn't it, Shepard? Well, my dissertation involved dark energy and the passage of time," Conrad said. "I believe dark energy can be used to increase the passage of time. Generally, it's a very slow process and takes millennia. But Haestrom's different. The dark energy is affecting the rate of time more quickly than should be possible. I'm hoping to have a chance to look into it a bit. If I have free time, that is."

Shepard couldn't think of anything to say after that, so she opened up her omni-tool and sent a message to Garrus, just saying hello. Things weren't strained between them at the moment, but things weren't exactly right, either. Made Shepard think of the time her dog tags became impossibly knotted. It took some time and patience before she could untangle them, but eventually she did. She should have told him about the visions earlier. They were _partners_, Shepard and Vakarian, and she shouldn't have held back something this important. Sometimes she was just entirely too good at pretending things were fine, especially when they were anything but.

But Garrus studying her carefully whenever she stared in a corner for just a moment too long wasn't helping matters. She promised she would tell him if another vision appeared and Shepard kept her promises. And now the questions…

They were both at risk for indoctrination; Shepard knew that. When Garrus had suggested the questions, Shepard had wanted to ask him as well, but he refused, saying he trusted her to know if something was wrong. No matter how tiresome the watching and waiting could be, she would be on her guard. She had no doubt he had her back when it came to indoctrination and she absolutely had his six as well. And if the time came, whether five days or fifty years from now, Shepard would do what needed to be done. Thanks to N7 training, she knew the most efficient and painless way to kill a turian.

Shepard closed her eyes. She wouldn't let herself go down that road of thought. Nothing good ever came from there. More to distract herself than actually wanting to know, Shepard asked, "So where'd you go to school, Conrad?"

"For my undergrad, masters or doctorate?" he asked, looking up from his omni-tool.

"What the hell, all of them," Shepard said. She would have liked to have the life of a student. It had been her plan when she was young, before she got mixed up with the Tenth Street Reds and the Alliance came knocking. Maybe she could go to back to school someday and get a masters degree of her own in Engineering.

"Undergrad was the University of Nairobi," Conrad said. "I grew up in South Africa, and wanted to stay on continent. Masters was from the University of Serrice on Thessia and my Doctorate was from The Talat School, on Sur'Kesh."

Shepard sat up straight. "You went to The Talat School?" she asked. That was one of the most prestigious universities in the galaxy.

"One of the first humans accepted," Conrad said modestly. "They made me take each class twice, since salarians process everything so much more quickly than humans. I liked Sur'Kesh."

She wanted so desperately to ask what happened. How did someone with his background turn into someone who pretended to be a Spectre and organized online protest rallies, even if they were in her name. _The Talat School?_ They offered degrees in engineering and Shepard didn't think she would even have the nerve to apply. And Conrad had not only gone, but specialized in areas that humans barely understood back then. The prothean ruins would have only been discovered twenty years before.

But it wasn't her business. If she was honest, Shepard thoroughly enjoyed getting involved with people's lives and helping solve their problems. But only if they asked for the help. Anything else felt like she was simply meddling.

"So this Leviathan creature was in your head?" Conrad asked suddenly.

Nodding, Shepard said, "It was. Didn't want to let me go at first. But they did."

"I can't even imagine…" Conrad said.

"Not gonna lie, part of me was worried," Shepard said, thinking of the vast emptiness that surrounded her while Leviathan spoke through the visions. The ground below had felt solid, but no matter what direction she looked, there was nothingness. She remembered wondering if she'd ever see Garrus again and if she didn't, hoped beyond reason they'd find a way off the planet. Reading those journals of some of those stranded crew members and thinking there was a chance her crew could be reduced to that…

The thought reminded her how important Conrad would be to the team. If he could help get the tracker in order and upgrade the personal shields, she'd have a much better chance protecting her squad. "You know, they actually called the artifacts 'fragments.' We probably should, too, but I bet it's too late to change everyone's thinking."

"I read that in your report," Conrad said. "Makes me wonder if the artifacts are part of a larger whole. Well, it'll be nice to take my own readings."

The shuttle landed a few minutes later and they stepped out into the warmth of the sun. "Once I introduce you to Wiks and Bryson, they'll take over. They'll get you set up with housing, your daily rations, everything you need."

Shepard watched Conrad take in the office buildings. "It's very… colorful," he said finally. "Well, never good to judge a book by its cover, I guess."

She led him through the series of hallways, saying hello and nodding to those who greeted her as she passed. Besides her, Conrad's gait seemed to slow the closer they were to their destination.

"Here we are, Conrad," Shepard said. "Here's the lab where you'll be working."

Conrad stood in front of the closed door, feet spread, shoulders back, as if he was bracing himself for an attack. Gulping, Conrad said, his voice thin, "Ready."

Shepard knocked twice.

Ann opened the door and ushered them into the lab. More tools were spread about, with new equations on the whiteboard, and a third work station set up and ready for Conrad. "Operative Wiks, Dr. Bryson, this is Dr. Conrad Verner," Shepard said as they all shook hands.

"A honor, Dr. Verner," Wiks said. "I read your paper on dark energy and baryonic matter years ago. Absolutely fascinating."

"We pulled the data that you requested," Ann said. "There might be more eventually. Golem, the geth on the Enthrallment Team was on Haestrom when they were deactivated."

"Golem?" Conrad asked.

"A geth prime," Wiks said. "He was sent with others to help build the Crucible, but when they developed sentience, he asked if he could help with the Enthrallment Team. Choose the name himself. Such a pity."

Shepard looked away, trying not to think of the warehouse that stored all the inactive geth on Earth. She had made her choice - and she was convinced it was the right one - but that didn't mean the consequences of that choice didn't twist the contents of her stomach.

"I'll let you all get back to work," Shepard said. "I appreciate all of your efforts and please keep up those reports."

"Of course, Commander," Bryson said. "Let's show you around, Dr. Verner."

"Please, it's Conrad," Conrad said. He looked over at Shepard. "Commander?"

Shepard turned back around. "Yes?"

"Thank you," he said, nodding his head.

Shepard smiled. She dragged him into a lab he didn't want to be in and he was thanking her. Conrad was one of a kind, that's for sure. "I should go," Shepard said. She waved and headed out the door.

* * *

"Welcome to our humble abode," Shepard said, ushering Liara into the prefab.

The asari walked inside and looked around. Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, "You have a bathroom." Shepard didn't think she imagined the touch of envy in Liara's voice. "I'm on a waiting list for prefab with a bathroom."

"I thought you'd be used to sharing a bathroom," Shepard said, heading over to the table to sit down. "You shared one on both the SR-1 and SR2."

"True enough," Liara said, sitting down. "But I didn't have to walk outside to get there."

Shepard picked up a deck of cards and started shuffling. While she could bring up an electronic version of the game, Shepard preferred not to use the energy rations. Instead, she brought out a pack of cards she bought on her first trip to the Citadel after Cerberus brought her back. Many games of poker and skyllian five had been played on the _Normandy _with this deck.

Liara started laughing. "So when you invited me over for a friendly game of poker, you actually meant playing a friendly game of poker?"

Shepard flashed a grin as she dealt the cards for Five Card Draw. "We might talk a little bit during the game," Shepard said.

"And now truth comes out," Liara said, picking up her cards and leaning back in her chair. Just as Shepard was about to pick up her own cards, Liara placed hers on the table. "I'm sorry, Shepard, I just…"

Her face had always been so easy to read. Liara was hurting and Shepard could guess why. Staring down at the cards, Shepard said, "I couldn't have anyone rummage through my head again, even innocently." She looked up at Liara. "I'm sorry if turning down your gift hurt your feelings."

Tapping gloved fingers across the table and not meeting Shepard's eye, Liara said, "It wouldn't have been _rummaging._" Her tone suggested offense. "Just a quiet moment between two friends."

Perhaps Shepard had violated some sort of asari code, but she found herself not caring. She needed her mind to be her own, not linked with asari or geth or Leviathan. Just her. Just Shepard. "We are friends, Liara. We just didn't have time for a quiet moment then."

She didn't look mollified, though she reached across the table and rested her hand on Shepard's. Shepard had to fight not to snatch back her hand. She didn't particularly care for casual touches from anyone other than Garrus. She never had. But she knew to move her hand so quickly would be insulting.

"I understand, Shepard," Liara said, finally moving her hand and picking up her cards. She studied them carefully. "I'll take three."

Shepard scrambled to pick up her own cards. A pair of eights, a three, seven and king. She gave Liara three new cards. "I have a sneaking suspicion you might already know why I've asked you here to talk."

"Three high profile murders, not even mentioning the two attempted murders…" Liara picked up her new cards. Her smile was sly. "Why would I ever have an interest in that?"

"Who told you?" Shepard asked, dealing herself two new cards, keeping the eights and the king.

"Communication is working just fine, even if the relays aren't," Liara said. "Not all of my agents made it through the war intact, but the ones still out in the field are doing their jobs. Once I knew Leviathan was involved I knew wild varren couldn't drag you away." Liara put down her cards and looked at Shepard. "If I can offer any assistance, please let me know."

"I was hoping you'd say that." She looked at her cards. She was in luck. She had dealt herself another king and a two. "I need to know if there are other facilities like Mahavid," Shepard said. "If there are, we need to shut them down."

Liara pursed her lips and looked down at the floor. "That is a bigger request than you think," she said. "Some of my hardware was damaged in the _Normandy's _crash. It will take weeks, perhaps longer to reconstruct and collate the data."

"What about Glyph? Couldn't he help?" Shepard asked.

"I can only power him up occasionally," Liara said, looking forlorn. "Even the Shadow Broker is being forced to ration."

Shepard ran her hands through her hair. It wasn't the answer she was hoping for, but it was certainly better than nothing. "Anything you can find would be appreciated. And I'll check with HQ about getting you some additional energy reserves."

"That would be much appreciated," Liara said. "I actually quite miss Glyph. Never thought I would say that."

Shepard's mind raced, thinking of how much needed to be accomplished before the relays were operational: she needed to find a team, learn the locations of the artifacts, of any more facilities being enthralled like Mahavid and most importantly, where the other planet of Leviathan was hiding. And ideally she'd like to have this all completed before the _Normandy_ left the system in six weeks.

She took a steadying breath. Shepard had faced down angry krogan and even Reapers before; she could do this. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Liara's feelings more than she already had on Earth. But she needed Liara focused on finding information. And that would be best done elsewhere, not on the _Normandy._

"Did I mention I'm thinking of procuring a small ship?" Liara asked, as if she could read Shepard's thoughts. Then again, Liara had been inside Shepard's head twice. Maybe that led to a bit of an advantage. "Nothing nearly as pretentious as the old Shadow Broker's vessel. But I would much prefer to be mobile instead of having a stationary location."

Shepard tried to keep her face neutral and not show her relief. "We'll miss you on the _Normandy,_" Shepard said, knowing at least that was true.

"It's time," Liara said. "Now that the Reapers are dealt with, I need to start providing the services one expects from the Shadow Broker. Five credits." Liara placed a worn credit chit in the middle of the table.

"Why does that worry me, Liara?" Shepard asked.

"The services of the Shadow Broker or the bet?" Liara said.

"Liara," Shepard said, trying not to sound exasperated.

"I don't mean to be flippant, Shepard, but what do you expect?" Liara said, shuffling her cards in her hands. "I can't provide free information to the Alliance forever."

"You have some very sensitive information at your disposal," Shepard said. She leaned back in her chair as she threw in a credit chit of her own. "You've seen things on the _Normandy_, heard things. Hell, Hackett trusts you more than anyone, considering he got you into the Mars Archive. Can I trust that information won't be sold to the highest bidder?"

"Have you thought of what would happen if I walk away?" Liara asked, placing another chit on the table.

Shepard pulled her hair slightly. The move had become a tell of hers, grounding her. It was long enough to put in a short ponytail. She really should start wearing one. "There'd be a power vacuum." Of course there would be. She should have thought of that right away. Taking one last chit from her pocket, she put it on the table. "Call."

"There are already a number of information brokers looking to profit from the current confusion. The myth of the Shadow Broker needs to be maintained, Shepard. Otherwise you'll find there to be a new broker who might not be as sympathetic as I am." Liara flipped her cards on the table one by one. Ace of spades, jack of hearts, and three fours.

"Damn," Shepard said with a sigh, putting down her own cards onto the table.

"There's also the matter of my resources," Liara said. "My wet squad is far better being employed by the Shadow Broker than going out and free-lancing. Not to mention all the resources I helped the Alliance procure."

Part of Shepard wondered if this was the way the galaxy was going to be for a while. People calling in favors, reminding others what they had done for the good of the galaxy. Not once did Shepard ask what was in it for her? What perks could she cash in once the war was over? She just did her damn job and fought Reapers. Shepard forced the words to come out of her mouth politely, without sounding like they were through gritted teeth. "Your help was much appreciated, Liara. Truly, I mean that."

Liara leaned forward and picked up the credit chits she had won. "I do have fun playing this game. I'll never understand why I resisted playing it for so long."

"Too bad those chit aren't actually worth anything right now," Shepard said.

"Might not be too long before they bounce back," Liara said. "My sources on Irune say the volus are working twenty hours a day to get the galactic economy moving again."

"Good," Shepard said. "If anyone can do it, they can."

"Agree," Liara said, picking up the deck of cards and smiling. "Another round?"

"Deal."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to theherocomplex for her beta work!


	10. The Hermit, Reversed

**The Hermit, Reversed: **_Isolation from others. A resistance towards help. The reliance on one's own resources that are inadequate._

* * *

"This is just about the prettiest refugee camp I've seen," Shepard said, craning her neck from side to side to take everything in.

The quarian refugee camp had more color than any of the other camps she had seen. They used the same standard tents as all the others, but they were practically on top of each other, as if the quarians were trying to recreate the camped quarters of the flotilla here on Earth. Colorful scarves and sheets of fabric were draped over the tent and flying from the door flaps.

"Shepard! Garrus!"

Tali waved eagerly, standing on the top step of the only prefab in the encampment. Shepard was thrilled to see that Tali looked much healthier than the last time she saw the quarian. While she hadn't gained all the weight back, there was no longer a looseness in her suit. She and Garrus both were truly beginning to put the hard months on the _Normandy _behind them.

The quarian camp was busy; Tali said a great deal of quarians decided to stay on Earth instead of their ships, wanting to practice for when they returned to Rannoch. All the quarians Shepard saw wore environmental suits, but there were several without masks. They must have been volunteers, allowing the geth to upload into their suits to rewrite their immune systems.

There were even a few children plodding around in their bubbles. The variety of skin colors fascinated Shepard. A few had skin the shade of Tali's, a dusty lavender. Others were deep maroon, and Shepard thought she saw someone with almost pale pink skin.

"About time you bosh'tets got here," Tali said. Shepard recognized Tali's body language as absolute happiness. "Isn't today a beautiful day?"

"Someone's happy," Garrus said.

"I am," Tali said with a hint of superiority. "And if you're lucky I will tell you why."

"I know why you're happy," Garrus announced. "Because we're finally paying you a visit."

"If this was a friendly visit, that would make me happy," Tali said. "I can tell just by looking at you both you want to talk business." She sighed dramatically. "Let me give you the tour, less people to overhear."

She pointed at the prefab. "This is where the admirals work," Tali said. "Xen and Koris are on Rannoch, but Raan, Gerrel and I use that as an office."

"How are the quarians on Rannoch doing without the geth?" Shepard asked as they started to walk.

"It's sad," Tali said. "They'd been helping for two months. People were to used to them. And now they're gone." She shook her head. "Xen was - _is _- furious. Raan said she wanted to charge the Alliance with war crimes against the quarian people."

"Really?" Shepard said slowly. She still remembered the letter Xen had sent her after Tali's trial with bitterness. Lashing out about war crimes seemed right in line.

"Don't worry," Tali said, patting Shepard on the shoulder. "the other admirals stopped her right away. She's convinced she can bring them back somehow. And it doesn't hurt anyone if she tries."

"Best of luck to her," Garrus said. Shepard watched his mandible flick in impatience. "I can't take this anymore. Why are you so damn happy, Tali'Zorah?"

"You are just going to have to wait, Garrus Vakarian," Tali said, sounding smug. "I thought you had official, important business to discuss with me."

"It can wait," Garrus said, looking at Shepard. "It can wait, right?"

"It can wait," Shepard said, nodding her head. She was just as curious as Garrus was to know what made Tali so happy.

Tali led them through a small maze of tents. "This one is mine," she said proudly. Purple scarves and veils decorated the wall. They all sat down companionably on the floor. "I've never had a space this big all to myself before. I like it. I can't even imagine what having a whole house will be like on Rannoch."

"It's lovely, Tali," Shepard said. Tali had managed to make the standard tent feel much more homey and comfortable. "So why are you happy?"

Shepard didn't need to see past Tali's mask to feel her joy. "Because Kal'Reegar is alive," she said, her voice cracking. "I just found out yesterday."

"Oh, Tali," Shepard said softly. She knew Tali and Reegar had become quite close when Tali had been back with the flotilla during Shepard's confinement, even going as far to take the first step to begin the process of linking suits.

But then the Reapers invaded. Tali had said it broke her heart, but she and Reegar both agreed that they needed to concentrate on the war. A noble attitude, but one Shepard couldn't understand. She simply couldn't picture fighting the war without Garrus by her side. She wished Tali would have let herself have that comfort as well.

The night when Shepard had read the news article, announcing Reegar's death, Tali had come up that night and the three of them, Shepard, Garrus and Tali drank heavily, mourning for her friend. Shepard and Garrus had purposely ignored the quiet looks of jealousy Tali threw at them every so often. And after Tali left, their embrace had been tighter than it had been the night before. Neither one of them wanted to think how easy it was to lose the person you love, thanks to the Reapers.

"Reegar's alive?" Garrus asked. "Spirits, that's good news. What happened?"

"He was hurt pretty bad, a coma," Tali said. "I guess someone just made an assumption that his squad was going to go down, but they were able to get out."

"That's fantastic, Tali," Shepard said.

"He's on Palaven, so I won't get to see him for a while," Tali said. "He's not sure if he can fight anymore. But I hope we won't need fighters, not for a long time."

"Are you two…" Garrus said, trailing off.

"Still together?" Tali asked, her voice clearly telling Garrus _wouldn't you like to know_. Garrus and Tali seemed closer than they had before. Shepard supposed the four months stranded on the Normandy brought the entire crew tighter. She felt a brief prick of jealousy for all the conversations and moments she had missed with her crew during that time. "Yes, we are together. I've already used up my bandwidth rations for the week in the last twenty four hours. I'm going to have to trade for more somehow."

Garrus looked at Shepard, and she could tell they had the same thoughts. Their plan was to ask Tali to join the mission, like old times as Garrus was so fond of saying. But it felt almost cruel to take Tali away from her future. Well, Shepard wasn't going to make the decision for her friend. Tali certainly deserved to make the choice herself.

"You might have heard some rumors-"

Tali nodded. "Engineer Adams filled me in," she said. Tali looked down and her palms, which were curved elegantly on her thighs. "I'm an admiral now, Shepard. I was able to stay on the Normandy after Rannoch because it made sense. I was looked at as the quarian liaison, so to speak." Tali looked up and tilted her head. "I need to be with my people now. Without the geth… There is so much work to be done."

It was a silly pipe dream, Shepard thought, thinking the old crowd would stay together. She had fallen down that trap before. First with Cerberus, remembering the ache she had felt inside when the Illusive Man told her that her crew was unavailable. And then during the war, remembering the messages she sent out to her old crew as the ship had flown from the Citadel to Menae, hoping that someone, anyone would heed her call and join her. Of the twelve messages she sent, only two stood by her side.

She understood. They all had their own lives, their own responsibilities. It would have been selfish to insist they join her on the _Normandy_ no matter how much she wanted her old crew. At least she had Garrus and Tali then. Shepard had known this day would come eventually since the moment they stood on Rannoch, and Tali felt the sun of her world warm her maskless face. She just didn't think it would come this soon.

"I understand, Tali," Shepard said softly. "We'll miss you."

"I'm going to make Adams send me reports on how the _Normandy_ is running. So you'll get commentary. It will probably be colorful, so it'll be like I'm right there," Tali said with a laugh.

"Deal," Shepard said. She stood up as gracefully as she could, then held out a hand to help Garrus up. "Want to show us around?"

"Of course!" Tali said, bouncing up herself. "But first, Shepard.." Tali took a breath and looked right at Shepard. "I want you to know that the Fleet will always be there for the _Normandy._ You've given us something we can never repay. Granted, once we're back on Rannoch, only half the Fleet will remain, but it's the thought that counts."

"What's happening to the Fleet?" Garrus asked.

"We need to dismantle about half our ships to use for materials and housing and such on Rannoch," Tali said. "Going to take a long time, but we need to keep up with the work the geth have done. And eventually I'll have a house. And you both better plan on visiting me as soon as it's done."

"Just wait until you try to get rid of us," Shepard said with a laugh. It wouldn't be old times, but at least then they could make some new ones.

* * *

"Here," Victus said, his mandibles drawn in tightly to his face as he handed Garrus a datapad.

"Sir?" Garrus asked. He only stepped into Victus' office a moment ago. Usually took longer for Victus to be this annoyed.

Victus' sub-vocals rumbled with displeasure. "Just read the datapad."

Garrus skimmed the contents of the datapad, his mandibles tightening as he read the contents. "Do you want me to resign?" he said finally.

"Of course not," Victus said, yanking the datapad out of Garrus' hands. "I want you to know what's being said about you."

Garrus ran his hand over his fringe. He should have known his decision to go to Omega would bite him in the ass someday. When Garrus had left the Citadel after Shepard's death, he thought he was only deserting C-Sec. He hadn't been thinking clearly. He still needed to complete two years of his mandatory service when he left. The Hierarchy didn't count his time fighting the Collectors as Cerberus was classified a terrorist organization. Garrus actually considered himself lucky they didn't throw him in irons the moment he had stepped onto Palaven after Shepard turned herself into the Alliance. The fact that he never accepted any credits from Cerberus had helped.

Miranda had offered him a stipend, but Garrus absolutely refused to take their credits. It had been bad enough he was on the ship at all. The yellow and black color combination made his plates itch. But Shepard had needed him, that's what he clung to while cleaning up Cerberus' messes, like the Overlord or Firewalker projects. Shepard had needed _him._

Because of his refusal to take any credits from Cerberus, he hadn't been joking when he told Shepard about a vigilante's salary. He had given every credit of the squad's surplus funds to their families, like to Butler's wife or Weaver's kids. That hadn't left him much. Bad wine and a cheap suit were all he could afford their first night together.

"You went AWOL, Vakarian," Victus said, shaking his head. "You deserted the turian Hierarchy. One day we're going to talk it over. I'm fairly certain alcohol will be involved when we do. But you had the quad to come back, and serve your time. The fact that we won the damn war against the Reapers where you were my chief advisor doesn't hurt."

"How do you want me to respond to this?" Garrus asking, pointing at the datapad. Some of the high ranking members of the Hierarchy were using Garrus' former AWOL status as a strike against him and Victus. Those same members weren't pleased with Victus being Primarch of Palaven, either. Thinking back on his actions, Garrus knew the end result wouldn't have changed, he would have still ended on Omega. But there were steps he could have taken, official channels to apply for leave instead of going AWOL, but his grief over Shepard's death overshadowed everything else.

"Ignore it," Victus said, sitting behind his desk. "That's my plan. How much longer do you need to serve?"

"Depends," Garrus said.

"On?"

"Whether the four months the _Normandy_ was stranded counts towards my service," Garrus said.

"Consider them counted," Victus said with a nod.

"Then fourteen more months, sir," Garrus said.

"Good," Victus said. "Blasted vultures. We have so many more important things to deal with and the Hierarchy wants to focus on _this._"

"Shepard told me once that politicians are the weeds of the galaxy," Garrus said, working to keep the frustration out of his voice.

The last thing he wanted was to be a distraction for Victus but Garrus knew the Primarch relied on his council. And somewhere along the line, he had gotten used to people asking him the tough questions. Didn't mean he liked it; probably never would. But Garrus accepted it.

"I'll drink to that," Victus said. "Just wait until it's your turn in a couple of decades."

Garrus let out a sharp laugh. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you," he said. He hadn't been informed of his current standing in the Hierarchy, but if Victus thought there were a couple of decades before Garrus needed to worry, he wouldn't bring trouble early.

"Fair enough," Victus said. "Five more weeks til we can get off this damn planet."

"We'll have a lot of work to do once we do leave," Garrus said.

"True, but when do people like us not have work that needs to be done?" Victus asked. Garrus didn't have an answer. "That'll be all for now, Vakarian. I'll want a report on the rations situation tomorrow."

"Understood, sir," Garrus said. He left the office, trying to keep himself from falling into a bad mood. Damnit, some of the lies written about his two year absence infuriated him. Whoever was leading the charge against him was smart, painting lies with a hint of the truth, saying he had worked for Cerberus undercover those two years. And it wasn't as if Garrus could refute the claim without more questions being asked about where he _had_ been. The less the Hierarchy knew about Archangel, the better.

He stepped out of the building and took a deep breath. What Garrus wanted, at that very moment, was to go home, grab a beer, sit down on the couch with Shepard on his lap, like they used to sit a million years ago, before the Reapers invaded. He had fond memories of those times, when they were still discovering so many new things about each other. When she would invite him up to her cabin, before it became _theirs_, and they actually had the time to just talk.

But since dextro beer was in no supply in this system and he knew for a fact Shepard had meetings until late tonight, what Garrus wanted was inconsequential. What he would settle for was a upgraded MRE for his dinner.

The turian camp was busy, everyone was doing their jobs like the good turians they were. Thankfully the area where the rations and MREs were kept seemed fairly empty. For one night, Garrus was going to indulge. Most days, after they woke up in the morning, Shepard would stand in the line for their MREs and rations and Garrus would get line for their water. Being a dextro in a levo camp meant his food choices were limited, as they only stocked what was needed. But Shepard fought for him. She learned he didn't like the ration bars made with _meva_ nuts, they were just too small, too grainy for his taste. And she knew to always grab any MRE that used a _vilj_ sauce, since that was his favorite.

But now? He was going to stand and take his time, deciding exactly what he wanted to eat for dinner. Wouldn't be as nice as a cold beer and Shepard sitting on his lap, but Garrus would take what victories he could.

"Quarians got another delivery from their liveship coming," a worker said to another as Garrus walked up to the inventory control area of the camp. "More damn beans."

"Good, we need to restock. Protein's running low."

The voice caused Garrus to clench. His toes, his abdomen, his talons, his heart, even the muscles in his neck. In that instant he became a tightly coiled spring, ready to lash out any moment. Garrus desperately forced himself not to reach behind and take out his Vindicator, wanting the steady weight in his hands.

And he wanted Shepard in front of him, blocking his shot so he didn't do something incredibly stupid.

"Sidonis."

The turian looked up and Garrus saw the moment of recognition in his eyes. Sidonis slowly raised his hands, chest high and started backing up slowly. The turian looked older, more grey. His colony markings had dulled and he had definitely lost weight since the last time Garrus had seen him.

If Sidonis was working with foodstuff, it meant someone trusted him. Maybe Tactus, who was still working for the refugees on Earth like he did on the Citadel. Tactus was how Garrus learned that Sidonis was on the Citadel in the first place. They had a working lunch, and Tactus raved about his new assistant Sidonis and how much good the man was doing for the refugees. But Garrus never once saw him in all his trips to the refugee center. Always figured he was keeping out of Garrus' way on purpose, something Garrus had to admit he was grateful for. He didn't think he could handle seeing him then.

But after fighting a war they managed to win thanks to luck and Shepard's damn grit, and watching Shepard make decisions and choices she never once thought she would be willing to make, all to ensure that when the day of reckoning arrived they'd be ready to fight? He could look Sidonis in the eye and not want to shoot him in the head.

And there was that fact, that Sidonis - betrayal or not - had been the first to believe in him, the first to join up on Omega. They had swapped stories about basic and growing up on Palaven. Garrus had subtly encouraged Sidonis' interest when Melanis, joined the squad. She was a turian from Palaven who left the Hierarchy the moment her fifteen years were up and had no plans to return. And when their relationship crashed and burned a couple of weeks later, Garrus had been the one who drank with him in the shooting range while they pretended to practice.

Sidonis had been his _friend._

Which was why the betrayal hit him so damn hard. Because if Sidonis had stopped believing, how had the rest of the squad felt? Garrus had been so adamant, wanting to push the team further, to try to get the mercs completely off the station, he could have missed all the warning signs.

"Wait," Garrus said barely realizing the words had left his mouth. Sidonis stopped and lowered his hands. He hadn't turned around, probably half wondering if Garrus would shoot in the back if he did.

"You think about them still?"

Sidonis closed his eyes and Garrus felt the usual pain in his gut that accompanied thoughts of his squad. Though this time, Garrus saw his pain reflected on Sidonis' face. "Every damn day," Sidonis said slowly. Garrus could hear the pure note of grief in his sub-vocals even more clearly than he could on the Citadel. "Every time I close my eyes they're there. I hope I never stop thinking about them."

_Good._

Garrus didn't want to be the only one who remembered. He hadn't told Shepard about them, not even their names. Someday he would. She told him once thanks to some of the work Cerberus had done, she could potentially live twice as long as a normal human. Garrus didn't like to think about that much. He didn't like to think a hundred years from now he could be a dull plated old man while Shepard was barely middle aged. But if it were true, he would die long before she would. And he wanted someone to remember them. Even if only second hand.

"I'm trying to find their families," Sidonis said suddenly, not looking Garrus directly, as if afraid to make eye contact. "See if they lived through the war."

Garrus looked up and took a step towards Sidonis, who didn't flinch, just held his ground. Garrus had been in contact with a number of them before the Reapers invaded, but once the war started, there was just never any time. No, that was a lie. There was time, he choose to spend it with Shepard. He wouldn't begrudge himself that choice now. "Any luck?"

"Vortash's husband. One of Weaver's kids," Sidonis said, running his head over his fringe. "I only have a few energy rations a day, so it's going slow-"

"I'll get you more," Garrus said at once.

"You don't-"

"You promise me you'll use them to keep searching for their families, you'll get more rations," Garrus said slowly. He was realistic and knew he had no time to do a search like that on his own. And now that the thought was in his head, he wanted to search. If Sidonis had any luck, Garrus could try to make sure their families and loved ones were safe. Maybe when credits had more value, he could even send a little money their way.

He could take care of his squad again.

"I promise, Garrus," Sidonis said and Garrus' gut clenched, remembering how his rage had bled out hearing those same words, standing high in a sniper perch, Shepard standing in his cross hairs.

He flipped up his omni-tool and sent his public extranet address to Sidonis. "Can you keep me updated?" he asked, his voice tight as he tried to contain his sub-vocals from betraying any emotion, barely believing that he was asking Sidonis of all people a favor. Maybe humans were on to something with their saying, _time heals all wounds_. A year ago this would have been an impossibility.

"Sure thing, Garrus," Sidonis said, his sub-vocals eager now as he sent his own information to Garrus. He raised his chin and looked Garrus in the eye for the first time since _I need help on a job. It'll be quick. We'll meet there. _"Thank you."

Garrus wasn't sure why he was being thanked, maybe for not killing him on the Citadel or killing him now or simply for the extra energy rations he would send Sidonis' way.

Sidonis turned around and started walking. Garrus stood still, forcing himself to breathe even breaths until Sidonis was out of view. Not until he was out of sight did Garrus let his shoulders hunch as he pictured the face of each member of the squad in his mind.

_Erash, Monteague, Mierin, Grundan Krul, Melanis, Ripper, Sensat, Vortash, Butler, Weaver_

His memories weren't as clear as they had been two years ago. What color had been Ripper's eyes? Or Sensat's facial tattoos?

His omni-tool beeped with a message from Shepard, forcing him out of his stupor. He read it quickly, she was just saying hello. She did that more often now, reaching out during slow times during her day, not content to leave everything until when they saw each other in the evening. Garrus had to admit he liked that, since they spent their days in different camps, and he couldn't expect a surprise visit in the battery.

He typed a message. _I've got a story for you when you get home._ He wouldn't tell her about the squad. Not yet. That was for another day. But Garrus could tell her this.

It would be a start.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to theherocomplex for her beta work!


	11. The Three of Wands, Upright

_**The Three of Wands, Upright: **__Dreams that turn into reality through circumstance and being in the right place at the right time. Plans and ventures that are moving ahead._

* * *

More and more, Shepard found herself craving silence. Loud noises caused her heart to clench, like when she listened to weapon training outside Alliance headquarters. But volume alone didn't cause her wish for silence. There were times she just wanted the peace and quiet silence brought. Sometimes at home, she'd pretend to go over a datapad but actually watch Garrus work out, doing the turian versions of push-ups and sit-ups. She could silent watch him work for hours.

And almost every morning, standing in the crowded line waiting to pick up her and Garrus' food rations for the day she felt the need for quiet. Shepard knew she should be talking to people in line, trying to raise morale, and most days she forced herself to do just that. But every so often her fingers pressed the keys turning off her implant, allowing her to be bathed in silence.

She had developed a guilty pleasure, being able to look at the world without sound. A world without people calling her name, asking for favors. No omni-tool beeping, letting her know she had yet another message, though it was smarter than she'd care to admit. Whenever her hearing implant was turned off, her omni-tool flashed once when she had a message, instead of making a noise. That's what she got for overclocking it like she had.

As she walked towards the conference room in Alliance Headquarters, Shepard saw people crowded inside, standing room only. She knew the people there would want to talk to her and be heard, so with an inaudible sigh, Shepard flipped her implants back on, trying not to hunch her shoulders as noise filled her world again.

Shepard arrived too late to get a seat at the conference table, so she stood in the back, listening to the excited voices of the people around her. Almost everyone she had passed in Alliance Headquarters had a smile on their face. The messages she'd received from Garrus told her the turian camp was in much the same state. Today was a long ways coming.

The vid screen on the wall showed a live cam of the Charon relay. A repair ship docked next to the relay and two worker pods appeared out of the open cargo hold. She held her breath as the worker pods flew closer to a large piece of debris.

_Alliance command, this is the Erdenet. Repair on the Charon relay has officially begun._

The crowd erupted and for once Shepard didn't want to turn off her implant. She leaned against the wall and watched the officers around her congratulate each other. More than one person slapped her on the back and wanted to shake her hand. Relief bubbled up through her throat, and she let out a small laugh. _Finally._

For five months, people across the galaxy had been away from their homes, with no idea if the relays would ever work again. So much faith had been placed in the Crucible scientists, relying only on their knowledge of what little Prothean technology they had. But the fix wouldn't happen overnight. They believed a month of repairs were needed before everyone who helped defeat the Reapers would finally have the chance to go home.

Of course, not every relay would be fixed right away. Of the fifty-four relays, only thirty-seven were in systems that had enough resources and technical experts. The other seventeen would have to wait. Once the relays were confirmed working, volunteer crews would start the journeys out towards those relays. Shepard's gratitude towards those volunteers knew no bounds; they would end up travelling for one to three years to reach the orphaned relays. But eventually, the galaxy would recover.

The main event and excitement over, the conference room started to clear out. Shepard took advantage and sat down at the table as she opened her omni-tool. Bringing up the schematics for the relays, she compared them to what she saw on the vid screen. A pang of jealousy knotted in her stomach, watching the workers move debris and set up a temporary dry dock for repairs. Those workers, engineers, most of them, were doing exactly what Shepard herself would love to be doing. Instead of arguing with politicians and haggling over resources, they were fixing things, making things right. Some said she fixed things in her own way, but it wasn't the same. It simply didn't compare to the feeling of a tool in her hand and the knowledge how to make something work.

_Some day,_ Shepard told herself wistfully. _Some day._

The conference room door opened and Lieutenant Vega walked in, giving Shepard a crisp salute before leaning against the conference table. Shepard had to stifle a chuckle. Whoever James was working under at the moment apparently didn't have the same tolerance for changes to the uniform that she did.

"Have I ever seen you in a regular BDU before, James?" Shepard asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

James rolled his eyes. "I'm working security over by the docking bays. The CO over there is big on formalities."

"Poor baby," Shepard said, putting her omni-tool away. She stood up, leaning forward on her hands. "Up for walking and talking?"

"Always," James said, following Shepard out of the door. They walked in silence through the hallways of Alliance Headquarters until they reached outside. "So what's this about?"

"Cortez didn't fill you in?" Shepard asked, surprised. "Good man, Cortez."

"Secrets, secrets are no fun, secrets, secrets hurt someone," James muttered under his breath. "I gave him my last bottle of Mescal, Lola."

"And by give, do you actually mean it is no longer in your possession or you let him have a shot?" Shepard asked.

"A double," James said, sounding indignant as they walked towards the back of Headquarters. "He owes me. So Cortez knows why you want to see me but I don't? Lola, I'm hurt."

"Somehow I think you'll survive, James," Shepard said, sitting down on one of the benches.

"Come on, I've a better idea. When was the last time you and I had a dance?" James asked.

Shepard shook her head, and James' shoulders drooped slightly. "Let's talk first," Shepard said.

"Talk and dance? Mmm? You know you wanna," James said, shifting his weight from the one foot to the other.

Shepard patted the space next to her. "Maybe after we discuss the classified information that I would very much like to talk to you about."

The word classified finally got James' attention and he sat down obediently. "I'm listening."

"Going on a mission, James," Shepard said. "And I've got a proposition for you." Shepard stretched out her legs in front of her, enjoying the sun that broke through the cloud coverage for once. Around them, other members of the Alliance took advantage of the sun as well, spread out on benches like she and James or lounging on the grass. "I've looked into a few things and Alliance Brass doesn't believe that they'll be officially starting an N7 training class until 2189 at the earliest."

She watched James' reaction carefully. At the news, he leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. "Damn, that long? You sure?"

"Unfortunately," Shepard said. She was disappointed on James' behalf; she knew how much he was looking forward to becoming an N7 recruit. Thankfully, she had an option for him. "However…" James perked up immediately at the word. "If you want, I've been given permission to become your mentor during our mission and basically give you the equivalent of N1 training."

"Really?" James asked, his smile wide. "That would be, damn, Lola, you know exactly-"

"This won't be a picnic, James," Shepard said. "I would be doing you absolutely no favors if I took things easy on you."

"I wouldn't want you to," James said at once. "No fun in that."

"You'll be pulling triple duty if you agree," Shepard said seriously. "You'll be pulling squad duty, running the armory-"

"Yeah, but that's with Cortez," James interrupted.

Shepard held up her hand and James immediately went quiet. "Not this tour," Shepard said. "Cortez is going to splitting his time between flying the shuttle and training as an XO." Without EDI's help by the end of the war, Shepard would have drowned in paperwork. Not this tour. Shepard quite liked the idea of keeping her sanity, and Cortez offered the most practical choice to help with the details. Thanks to a promotion, at Lieutenant Commander, Cortez would be the next highest ranking officer on the _Normandy_ and had expressed an interest in the position down the road. This pleased her; she and Cortez worked well together. And she liked the idea of training someone, even though technically she only held the position of the XO of the _Normandy_ for a couple of days before given command of the ship itself.

"Yeah? Good for Cortez," James said. "Be weird thinking of him as my boss, but he'll do a good job."

"Glad to see you approve," Shepard said with a laugh. "So if you accept, you'll be a very busy man, James."

"_If _I accept," he scoffed. "Of course I accept."

"Let's go over the terms first, Lieutenant," Shepard said, putting a bit of an edge to her voice. Over the six months they had worked together, she had given James a great deal of leeway simply because she liked the kid. But if she was going to help train him into a formidable N7 candidate, she needed to stop cutting him any slack. "When you are training with me, you will only be allowed to wear a regulation uniform. And during training, there will be absolutely no more using the name 'Lola,' understood? You will address me only by 'Commander' or 'Sir.'"

James sat a little straighter next to her. "Yes, sir," he answered immediately.

"Then welcome aboard," Shepard said, holding out her hand. James shook it eagerly. Shepard opened her omni-tool and sent him the important files for the mission. "Here are the files. Start look everything over and relays willing, we'll be leaving in a month."

"Sounds good," James said.

Shepard jumped off of the bench and looked at James. There was a glint in his eyes that she recognized. He looked ready to kick some ass, something Shepard had no intention of letting him do at the moment. With a grin that might be described as slightly feral, Shepard asked, "Now how about that dance?"

* * *

"We're going to be late," Shepard said, slipping her hand into Garrus'. Their meeting with Wrex and the Primarch took a bit too long for her tastes.

"We are not going to be late," Garrus said as they walked towards their prefab. Shepard rolled her eyes and and started walking a bit faster. Being the last to arrive at Gabby and Ken's wedding was the last thing she wanted.

"You ever been to a human ceremony before?" Shepard asked suddenly.

Garrus nodded. "Back on the Citadel, maybe a year after I joined C-Sec. An officer I was friends with got married. Even got invited to the…" Garrus stopped, his mandibles fluttering in thought. "I can't remember the name. The party to celebrate being single."

"Bachelor party," Shepard offered.

"Yes, exactly," Garrus said as they started walking again. "I just remember lots of booze and strippers."

"Sounds about right," Shepard said with a laugh as they turned a corner. They both immediately stopped. Someone was sitting on their doorstep and from this distance, Shepard couldn't see who it was. "Shit."

"Zooming in," Garrus said, touching his visor with a talon. He relaxed almost at once. "Kasumi."

"Kasumi?" Shepard asked. "Why the hell didn't she let herself inside?" But Shepard was pleased. She couldn't find the thief since she started putting her team together, so she asked Liara for help. Liara simply let it be known discreetly that Shepard was looking for Kasumi. Shepard smiled. Apparently the message worked.

"Hi, Shep!" Kasumi said cheerfully as soon as they were in earshot. "I couldn't get past your security. I have to admit, I'm impressed."

Garrus cleared his throat and Shepard laughed as she watched him push back his shoulders with pride. "You just had to say that, didn't you, Kasumi? Now I'm never going to hear the end of it from Garrus."

"You did the security?" Kasumi asked curiously.

"Massani and I did," Garrus said, with a nod. Shepard tried to keep the smile off her face and failed, hearing the pride in his sub-vocals.

"Very nice. I may have some opportunities for you down the road if this is what you can offer," Kasumi said. She looked over at Shepard. "So let's talk!"

Shepard unlocked the door to the prefab and went to the kitchen. "Anything to drink?" Shepard asked.

"Water would be lovely, Shep," Kasumi said, settling herself down on the sofa. She looked around and Shepard could tell Kasumi's eyes missed no details. "You have a bathroom."

"Seems to be the selling point," Shepard said, walking over and giving water bottles to Kasumi and Garrus. She sat down at the dining table, pushing her work station to the side. "So how's life been treating you, Kasumi?"

"Oh, don't say it like that," Kasumi said, picking off a piece of lint from her leggings. "I didn't abandon the Crucible scientists. They just didn't need me anymore."

"Uh-huh," Shepard said.

"I've been doing good things, Shep," Kasumi said. "You know how many people are trying to take advantage out there? I'm practically Robin Hood right now."

Shepard laughed at the confused look on Garrus' face. "Kasumi, the war is over. You did exactly what I asked of you and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

Under her hood, Shepard could see Kasumi's eyes squint slightly. "So you didn't invite me here to yell at me."

"Of course not," Shepard said.

Kasumi tapped her fingers on her thigh, staring into the corner of the room. "You have a another mission," Kasumi said finally, leaning back on the couch. "Is it really just work, work, work with you people? Take a vacation sometime." She sighed, crossing one leg over the other and taking a sip of water. "Ooh, this is better than the water I get. Could I take one for the road?"

"If you want," Shepard said. "And yes, I have another mission." She sketched out the details, emphasizing how it was in no way a suicide mission or galactic war. "What do you think?"

Kasumi toed the linoleum with her boot. "It actually sounds kind of fun," she said begrudgingly. "Infiltrate all sorts of places and destroy things? That's a mission I can get behind." Kasumi folded her hands over her lap and sat up straight. "Alright, I'm in. When do we start?"

Shepard released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Kasumi was going to be a perfect addition. Shepard sent the thief the relevant information. "We'll be in touch and have a few meetings, but we'll be leaving in a month."

"Can I have my old space?" Kasumi asked eagerly.

"Poker table there now," Garrus said. "I think there'd be a mutiny if Shepard tried to take it out."

"You'll be in the Starboard Cargo, where Zaeed used to be," Shepard said. "It's where the _Battlespace_ reporter stayed. Pretty nice space, actually."

"I wonder if she left anything behind," Kasumi said thoughtfully. "I'll have to do a thorough examination."

"Kasumi," Shepard warned.

"What?" Kasumi asked. "I'm just trying to be helpful. Now, I believe we're all going to be late for the wedding if you two don't hurry up and change. I'll wait outside."

* * *

"You may now kiss the bride," Engineer Adams said with a huge smile on his face.

Gabby threw her arms around Ken's neck and looked ready to jump into his arms. But Ken gently placed his hands on either side of Gabby's face and gave her a long look before they kissed. Shepard took Garrus' hand in hers and squeezed before the bride and groom broke apart.

Shepard stood up and clapped along with the rest of the small crowd. The moment the two engineers broke apart, Gabby placed her hands on her pregnant belly and announced, "I'm starving. Everyone go grab your MRE. Let's eat, please."

For a wedding without much time to plan and little resources, they had done a lovely job. They asked everyone to bring their own MRE for the reception dinner, since providing for the crowd of twenty would be impossible. For a surprise for Gabby and Ken, instead of presents no one had credits to give, Adams asked if everyone might be willing to donate some rations so that Yeoman Fitch could bake a small wedding cake - one tier, nothing fancy.

Shepard wore her black lace dress, not having much else appropriate to wear to a wedding. Next to her, Garrus wore his black and white suit. Shepard smiled to herself, thinking about dancing later on. Perhaps she might let Garrus persuade her for a dance. She couldn't think of a nicer discovery than learning just how enjoyable dancing could be when she was in Garrus' arms.

The guests were milling around the picnic area, picking up their MREs. Shepard smiled and waved to the entire engineering team from the _Normandy_, all standing together in a large group. Looking around, Shepard realized she recognized all the faces of the guests, leaving no one who might have been family for either Gabby or Ken.

Garrus grabbed their MREs and they sat down at a picnic table. Gabby, Ken, Tali, Adams and Chakwas quickly joined them. "What'd you bring me?" Gabby asked Ken as he sat down and put an MRE in front of her. "Beef Ravioli? You are officially my favorite husband."

"I'm going to take that as the compliment I know you meant it to be," Ken said, squeezing Gabby's shoulder.

Shepard unwrapped her own meal of Mediterranean Chicken, with sides of dried fruit and peanut butter and crackers, one of her favorites. She looked up to see Gabby staring at her. "Everything okay, Gabby?"

"You want to trade? The cheese for the peanut butter?" Gabby asked, batting her eyelashes.

Garrus held up his hand. "Gabby, do not come between this woman and her peanut butter," he said seriously.

"Normally, I'd agree with Garrus," Shepard said with a laugh. She handed Gabby the packet of peanut butter. "But it's not my wedding day."

"Best Commander ever," Gabby said, giving Shepard the tube of processed cheese. "Thank you so much."

Everyone ate in silence for a bit until Chakwas asked, "So what are quarian wedding ceremonies like?"

"A bit like this," Tali said. "A small gathering. The bride and groom sign the captain's log and then they start to share a cabin. We used to have really big ceremonies on Rannoch. Maybe we'll have them again someday."

"What about turian?" Gabby asked as she spread peanut butter over a tortilla shell she had taken from Ken's MRE. "I read they're really quiet or something, right?"

"Ah, yeah," Garrus said, opening up a package of dried _pytmol._ "The ceremony is self-uniting, so there isn't an officiant like you guys had. Each celebrant has three witnesses. They say some words to each other and the marriage starts."

"Celebrant?" Ken asked. "The bride and groom?"

"You know, turians actually never developed words for bride and groom," Garrus said, scratching the side of his neck. She could tell he was slightly uncomfortable talking about the ceremony. From her own research, she knew that turian weddings were truly private affairs. The three witnesses for each side were meant to be filled by people that would help support the marriage through the years. Parents were rarely present for the actual ceremony, but siblings were common. "Marriage has always been a civil act, never associated with religion. And since the sex of the partners don't matter, we never made different words for each person. When you get married, you're a celebrant."

"So only six people attend the wedding?" Adams asked. "I had a cousin once that had more than two hundred people at her wedding."

"Well, that's just for the ceremony," Garrus said. "Most couples throw a party afterward and invite practically everyone they know."

"That sounds more familiar," Chakwas said.

Another silence fell over the table and Shepard tried not to squirm in her seat as she felt the others glancing her way, probably wondering what her and Garrus' plans were. Shepard knew whenever the time came, she prefered the idea of a turian ceremony, the privacy aspect appealing to her.

But before she started thinking too much about a ceremony, she had to remind herself they hadn't actually discussed marriage. Every so often she wondered why Garrus hadn't proposed, like he said he would, just before they ran to the beam in London.

Maybe he had the right idea, Shepard thought, discreetly putting her hand on his knee, hidden, thanks to the picnic table. Garrus stilled and bumped his shoulder against hers as he continued to talk. They did have another mission to deal with. Probably best to dust off their old rule of not talking about the future.

"Is that cake?" Gabby asked, standing up as Fitch brought out a small layered cake. "Chocolate frosting?"

"Happy wedding day, Gabby and Ken," Adams said with a laugh.

"I love you people so much," Gabby said, grabbing Ken's hand. "Let's go shove cake in each other's face."

"Did she really just say that?" Garrus asked in a low voice. "I don't remember that part from the other wedding I went to."

"It's a really old tradition," Shepard said. "Not everyone follows it anymore."

The cake was delicious and afterward, music started playing. Shepard was content to sit back, holding Garrus' hand as they watched others dance. Adams and Chakwas seemed very friendly on the dance floor; Shepard wondered if there was a story there. Tali was dancing next to James and Ashley. And then the music changed.

The moment Shepard realized what song was playing she stood up. "Time to dance," she said, poking Garrus in the shoulder.

Garrus groaned and put his head in his hands. "I am never living this song down, am I?"

"Never, ever," Shepard said, trying to bounce in time with the beat. "Come on, Garrus, dance with me."

"I'm only doing this because I love you," Garrus muttered. Shepard smiled, feeling the warm rush she always did when he said those words. They rarely said them out loud. Shepard could count using both of her hands and still have a finger or two left over how many times he'd said those words since the top of the Presidium. Shepard didn't mind; she knew when he said them, he truly meant the words.

"Hey, there they are," James said. "Finally joining the cool kids."

Shepard wrapped her arms around Garrus' waist. "This is our song."

"This is not our song," Garrus said at once, putting his hands on her hips. They started swaying slowly to the techno beat.

"This is absolutely our song," Shepard told the group with a grin. She lowered her voice so only he could hear. "So how did your research lead you to this song anyway?"

Garrus leaned forward and rested his brow against hers. "I might have taken a suggestion from Mordin."

"You didn't," Shepard said, thinking of her own awkward conversation with Mordin. He had her believing about not ingesting until she did some research of her own and discovered the asari had been ingesting for a thousand years with no consequences. "Oh, Garrus." His talon traced her jawline. Shepard closed eyes and felt a shiver go down her spine. "Least it worked out in the end."

She leaned back to get a better view of Garrus' face. "I'd say it more than worked out," he said, his voice low and she felt the vibrations of his sub-vocals all the way through her fingertips.

Shepard thought of all the ways things had worked out for them. Supporting each other through the Collector Base, the war and now Leviathan. Looking back, Shepard still wasn't exactly sure how the words _what if we skip straight to the tiebreaker_? ever came out of her mouth, but she was so grateful she said them, and even more grateful that Garrus didn't treat the words as a joke but instead as an opportunity. Someday, when their lives settled down a bit, they'd take the step that Gabby and Ken took today. Someday.

A smirk found its way onto her lips. "Totally our song."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to theherocomplex for her beta work!


	12. The Eight of Swords, Reversed

_**The Eight of Swords, Reversed: **__Hard work reaping little reward, frustration, depression. Effort being exercised in the wrong place. A moving away from a problem rather than finding a solution._

* * *

"Hiya, Commander Shepard!"

Shepard nodded at the group of children playing at the front of the Shepards camp. After more than five months, she recognized most of them, though names escaped her. A young salarian and turian ran up to her, arms out for hugs.

She laughed as she knelt down to hug the two children. Five months ago, these same kids had barely looked her in the eye, thinking her the vaunted _Commander Shepard._ Now they demanded hugs when they saw her.

Everywhere she looked these days signs of healing showed. Kids wanting hugs, the turians and krogan formally announcing an alliance, even the burnt skin on her shoulders and thighs, where armor had melted from the heat of the blast on the Citadel had begun to heal.

Glancing around, Shepard tried to find something of interest to tell Conrad later today when she went to Orlando to meet the scientists. She wanted something personal, not just _oh the camp looks great!_ As she started to walk, a breeze caused the hair on her arm to stand up; she wished she thought to bring a light jacket with her.

Shepard turned down the closest row of tents and grinned, finding the perfect story.

There stood Javik, tall and proud, surrounded by a least a dozen children sitting on the ground.

"And then," Javik said, his voice low and with the practiced lull of a storyteller, "just as I thought death had come for me at last, my first officer, the brave and ferocious Pilka leapt from the rubble, her gun taking down husk after husk."

Shepard could barely keep the grin off her face. Javik's speech on the Citadel so many months ago proved he had a flair for the dramatic. Listening to him speak, she could just picture him, thinking himself alone and without hope, only to be rescued at last.

"I thought she was dead," one child whispered to another.

"As did I, human child," Javik said, nodding his head. "But Pilka was full of surprises. With her help, my crew and I were able to liberate the city of Jawhbalang."

The kids broke into cheers. Shepard clapped right along with them. The scene before her could have been from her own childhood, when she had snuck into libraries, a reliable place where she could be sit down and rest her feet. Storytime had always been her favorite growing up, especially when they served cookies and juice afterwards. Even when she had been too old for the children's section, Shepard would linger, pretending to look for a book and instead listen to the lull of the librarian's voice.

She caught Javik's eye and he nodded to the children. Before he could take a step, a small elcor asked, "With sincere pleading: another story?"

"Another time, elcor child," Javik said, looking at the elcor. "The commander is here to speak with me."

At her mention, the kids all looked over and waved, a few jumping up. She waved back, smiling, though part of her felt awful for stealing away their fun. However, this conversation couldn't wait any longer.

She and Javik walked to the outer rim of the camp, where there was a large field of grass in front of them. Kids ran around the field, playing tag or kicking a ball, enjoying the outdoors as only a kid could.

"Javik the storyteller," Shepard said with a chuckle. "And here I thought I'd seen everything."

"These children are impressionable," Javik said. "They will grow up knowing the greatness of the Prothean empire."

"Uh-huh," Shepard said. "That's all this is? Brainwashing the kids into thinking the Protheans are superior?"

Javik slid his fingers down the side of a tent behind them and Shepard wondered what it told him. Which child stayed there, maybe their hopes and dreams or information about their families. "I am finding there is something calming about being around the young," he said after a moment. "There is hope in this place. I come here often."

"Hope is a beautiful thing," Shepard said softly. "I was sort of surprised you wanted to meet here."

"I enjoy telling the children of some of what they call 'my adventures,'" Javik said. ""They are young, so I spare them the realities of war."

"Javik, these kids are in this refugee camp because they have no other place to go," Shepard said. "They've seen the realities of war."

"Perhaps you are right," Javik said, wiping his fingertips on his armor. "All the same, I am glad these children know of my crew, even if only as a fable. It is also good practice, remembering these tales for the book Dr. T'Soni keeps insisting we write."

"There is something to be said for that," Shepard agreed. She shifted and looked straight at Javik. "Any chance you're up for another adventure?"

"Dr. T'Soni provided details of your mission," Javik said. "I will relish the chance at revenge against the Leviathan."

Shepard held up her hand. "We're gathering information and destroying any of the artifacts we find along the way. It's a long way from revenge."

Javik gave her a steady stare and then shook his head as if disappointed. "I thought you knew better, Commander."

"We're not going to war if we don't have to, Javik," Shepard said.

"Leviathan has had millions of years to prepare for this moment," Javik said, pushing his shoulders back. "The moment the galaxy became free of the Reapers."

Shepard tried not to sigh. She recognized Javik's posture; he wanted to lecture her. _Throw the machine out the airlock. There was a _Normandy_ before this one. You died in an attack._

Her hands curled into fists as memories above Alchera fluttered through her mind. She remembered being so damn _angry_ at being left behind, that the galaxy would dare to continue on without her. And in those last moments, she remembered sparing a thought for Garrus, wishing she had taken the time to read the message he had sent her earlier that day, before anger consumed her again.

Those memories needed to wait. Shepard forced them down, crumpled them into a ball to be dealt with later. She'd been doing that more and more lately with certain feelings, there'd come a time when it had to stop. "War is the absolute last resort, Javik, understood?"

He looked back towards the children, where some still milled around, most likely hoping for another story. "I understand that is your hope, Commander."

"That _is_ my hope, Javik," she said. She waved her omni-tool, sending the details over to him. "We leave in a little more than three weeks."

"I will be ready," Javik said.

"It'll be good to have you back on the _Normandy_," Shepard said. She had meant what she said at the Embassy on the Citadel: Javik was one of the best soldiers she'd seen. After Garrus, she included him on her squad more than any others; his combat and biotic skills fitting seamlessly with her and Garrus'.

More than that, he understood her in a way few could. He understood the responsibility that had been placed on her shoulders, being tasked to defeat the impossible.

Javik nodded. "If that is all, Commander, I believe I will tell the children about the battle of Bwarge. It is a story I learned in my own childhood."

The children started cheering again as he walked back to them. With one last wave to the kids, Shepard stuck her hands in the pockets of her trousers and headed towards Alliance Headquarters.

She took a back route, one where she could have a better view of the ocean. Strange how she hadn't lived near an ocean for almost half her life, yet she still felt a sense of _home_ looking out into the water. She knew some people believed her place out among the stars - and she loved them, she did - but give her the vastness of the ocean, teaming with life underneath the waves over the great empty void, as Samara had called it once.

Shepard took a moment to appreciate the view before walking again. Once she started, Shepard turned and almost ran into a woman. She gasped, recognizing the woman at once and dropped to her haunches. Tears formed in her eyes as Shepard pulled her short ponytail hard, trying to ground herself. Her eyes closed almost involuntarily, perhaps hoping when they opened the woman would be gone.

"On three," Shepard whispered to herself, rocking back slightly. "One. Two. Three."

Shepard opened her eyes and the woman still stood there, head slightly cocked, staring down. Dirt covered her olive skin and dreadlocks matted her hair. She wore animal skins that clung to her body. Shepard wondered if she still smelled of animal grease and burnt ashes.

_That damn trinket._ Shepard had kept it in her armor jokingly as a good luck charm, saying Sha'ira had given it to her right before being appointed as a Spectre. She didn't even know what possessed her to bring the trinket out on Eletania. But she did. And within a matter of minutes, the memories of a caveman from fifty thousand years ago had been placed in her head.

She remembered the constant struggle, going out with the other tribesmen and hunting while the women worked to keep the home camp safe. Raids, where other tribes thought it easier to fight and steal for food and clothes than provide for themselves.

And she remembered the woman in front of her.

The memories she had were full of this woman. He had cared for her, so much. He had given her small tokens, a bit of leather or fur for use as decoration. Shepard knew he had loved her, and the day she accepted him as a mate the second happiest of his life.

The happiest day Shepard could remember of his was realizing the woman was with child.

Shepard looked up, meeting the woman's gaze for the first time. She had beautiful eyes, large and brown with thick lashes. "Did you have the baby?" Shepard asked, knowing the woman wouldn't answer even if they could understand each other.

Placing her hands on the pavement in front of her, Shepard lifted herself off of the ground. The top of the woman's head barely came up to Shepard's shoulders. Shepard forced herself to look into the woman's eyes. She studied them, wondering if somewhere out in the galaxy a living person had those same flecks of green in their eyes. "He loved you," Shepard finally said. Then she took a breath and forced herself to walk. Nothing would be gained by standing and staring. She walked to the end of the path and counted to thirty. Slowly turning around, Shepard saw no trace of the woman.

She exhaled and tried to compose herself. Shepard felt her hands shake as she brought up her omni-tool. Part of her wanted to shut down, pretend this didn't happen. If she didn't tell anyone it would be so much easier to pretend.

_But she promised._

Shepard took her finger and pressed the chat program app - their private channel, Shepard didn't want to risk anyone intercepting anything - and quickly typed Garrus a message. He called her almost at once and Shepard felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders at the sight of his face.

"You okay?" he asked. Shepard watched his eyes search her face, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

"Been better," Shepard said, giving him a small smile. He seemed more at ease after her smile. The timing of this vision couldn't be worse. Garrus' stress-level had skyrocketed since seeing Sidonis a few days ago and now this. "Didn't expect this today."

"Shepard, there comes a day when you do expect these, I think we need to sit down and have a chat," Garrus said dryly.

She chuckled. "Touché, Vakarian," she said. She felt better already, talking openly about this. He had been so right to call her out on the visions. "You remember on the SR-1 when I blacked out on Eletania?"

Garrus' mandibles pinched his face a bit - his thinking face, Shepard joked once - before asking, "Sure, with that Prothean ruin, right?"

"Yeah, that's the one," Shepard sighed. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hand. "What sort of cavemen were turians?"

His eyes blinked several times at the odd question. "Ah, turians never lived in caves. We evolved from the _pleket_, so early turians were plain dwellers. I'll show you a picture sometime."

"Early turians have art of any kind?" Shepard asked, remembering the simple drawing the tribe made in the dirt and etched on the walls. Her caveman had loved to draw pictures.

"Carved the bark of trees, I think," Garrus said. He let out of huff of impatient air. "You really okay, Shepard? I can meet you in fifteen minutes if you want."

"I'm fine," Shepard said a bit too sharply for her liking. She softened her voice. "I'm fine, really. This vision… it's hard to explain. Basically, I have the memories of a caveman in my head."

Garrus rubbed his neck. "And that's just what you need, when you already have the Prothean beacon and the Cipher in your head. Damn."

He sighed, long and deep and Shepard sense the question he wanted to ask, so she answered it for him. "The woman just stood there. Didn't say anything, just like the others."

"Good," Garrus said at once. Shepard heard the relief in his sub-vocals. "I'm just working on supply logistics today so message me anytime you want, okay, Shepard?"

"I will," Shepard promised, feeling lighter than she had before they spoke. She needed to remember this feeling the next time she wanted to shut down when they fought. Talking these things over with Garrus helped more than they hurt. Hopefully she could remember that. "I'm still going to go to Orlando. I want an update on how everything is going."

"If you're sure," Garrus said.

"I am," Shepard said, meaning the words. These visions wouldn't stop her from doing her job. They couldn't. If they did, she had no right to be leading this mission.

"Be safe and I'll see you tonight then."

"See you tonight," Shepard echoed, turning off the feed. She looked behind her one last time to make she couldn't see the woman. She couldn't. With a sigh, Shepard dug her toe into the ground and started walking towards headquarters.

* * *

Shepard walked into the lab, surprised only to see Ann Bryson working. "Where are Conrad and Padok?" Shepard asked.

Ann looked up from her workstation and waved Shepard over. "Conrad wanted some material that required two authorization codes to pick up, so Padok joined him."

"So you get the lab to yourself?" Shepard joked as she sat down next to Ann.

Ann pushed her hand through her hair. "Don't get me wrong, Commander. Padok and Conrad are both brilliant scientists," Ann said, sighing and crossing her legs. "But they like to talk through everything. Every hypothesis, every theory, every experiment… It can get grating sometimes."

"The things we do for science," Shepard said with a smile.

Ann snorted and brought up her omni-tool. "We do have some good news for you though, Shepard," she said. "The new shield is ready for activation. You won't ever notice the change, but the program will modify the frequencies at varying intervals. One cycle might be two point three seconds, the next point eight. Leviathan should have no chance of penetrating it."

"Fantastic," Shepard said. "How soon can we start using it?"

"Right away," Ann said. She folded her hands together in her lap and looked down. When she spoke again her voice was timid. "I've decided to start using the shield as well, for now."

"Worried about Leviathan?"

Ann nodded, still not raising her head. "I can't believe we were so careless," she said after a moment's pause. "There could be a working artifact in orbit right now and it's all my fault. What if…" Shepard said nothing, content to let Ann talk for now. "Sometimes I wonder, Commander, if I didn't think about the artifact when we were evacuating because Leviathan didn't want me to think about it."

Shepard pulled her ponytail, missing the buzz cut where she could just easily run her hands over her head. Ann's question seemed relevant, especially with Garrus' worry about Shepard's visions. "What was it like?" Shepard asked softly. "Besides being cold and dark?"

Closing her eyes, Ann leaned back in her chair. "I don't think I have a definitive answer for you. I try not to look back too much."

"But when you do?" Shepard asked.

"And I do," Ann said with a rueful smile. "Oh I do."

While waiting for Ann to continue, Shepard looked around the lab. The white board looked messier than ever with formulas and calculations covering almost every inch. While Shepard wasn't a scientist, she did consider herself to be a bit of a mathematician. She saw calculations regarding mass effects fields, dark energy and several about the relativity of time. Part of her wanted to ask questions and learn a bit.

A black console stood on a table in the center of the lab, surrounded by datapads, wires and other equipment. If Shepard had to hazard a guess, she'd say she found the prototype of the artifact tracker. Amazing to think three people and their collective knowledge stood the best chance of finding and then destroying the artifacts across the galaxy.

"I mainly remember the anger," Ann said, looking into the corner of the room. "Anger and disdain. Like the thought they were sullying themselves by speaking through me."

"Do you worry that it will happen again?" Shepard asked quietly, sensing the answer from the way Ann's shoulders tensed and her fist curled.

Ann shifted and with a start, Shepard realized the scientist stared at the pistol holstered at Shepard's waist. "Did you know when we first landed after the Reapers were defeated, there were weapons everywhere?" Ann asked. "Just lying around next to bodies on the street that hadn't been cleaned up yet."

"I was in a coma when that happened," Shepard said. "Heard it was pretty ugly though."

Riots over weapons and supplies. Krogan looking for a fight, not caring who their opponents where. Starving animals feasting on husks until the bodies could be burned. By the time Shepard woke from the coma, the worst of the fighting and ugliness had passed. She sometimes felt gratitude for that.

"I saw vids," Ann said, hugging her midsection. She shuddered. "But the point being is that for almost a week, it was fairly simple to find a gun. So I found one. Really nice model from what I can tell from my research. A Paladin."

"I used to carry a Paladin," Shepard said, missing the extra weight she usually felt on her right side. The Alliance-issued Predator didn't have the same heft in her hands. She missed her Paladin; she wondered who might have found it in the rubble of London. Whoever had better be treating it right. "Good weapon."

Ann took a deep breath and breathed out slowly through her nose. "I sleep with it under my pillow," she said. She turned and looked Shepard straight in the eye. "If I ever start to feel cold and dark again… Well." Ann chuckled humorlessly. "Let's just say you'll need to find another scientist. I'm not letting them win."

Shepard remained still as she remembered seeing Shiara sitting on her couch, staring at her. Shepard had gripped her pistol in her hand and waited until the vision disappeared. She was lucky, Shepard knew. She didn't have to worry about not being brave enough to take herself out if the worst happened. Garrus would do it for her. Shepard let out a quick breath, trying to picture Garrus carrying around that guilt for the rest of his life - and he would feel guilty, she knew he would, taking no comfort in the idea it was what she'd want - and couldn't. She would simply have to make sure that never happened.

"Have you had a pysch eval since you've been working on this project?" Shepard said, her voice level, not trying to sugarcoat her words.

Ann shook her head briskly. "No, I haven't."

"You had weekly ones though, when you were working on Project Aurora?"

Ann sat up a little straighter. "We all did. Anyone who came into the office near the fragment of Sovereign was required to go."

"I think we're going to start that up again," Shepard said, stretching her hands behind her back. "You, Padok and Conrad. Weekly sessions. It was sound policy."

Weekly pysch evals might not give Ann the same comfort of a Paladin underneath her pillow, but it might provide some sense of security.

When Ann looked up again, Shepard saw her that Ann's seemed lighter, a burden lifted. "That's a good idea, Commander. Thank you." Ann held up a finger, asking Shepard to wait. After she pulled up her omni-tool, Ann waved her arm. Shepard's own omni-tool beeped, the transfer successful. "That's the shield. I'll let you handle the distribution among your team." Ann bit her lip and looked down at her omni-tool. "I don't know if this is my place…"

"Probably would be a good idea for me to start using this shield at all times like you," Shepard said, activating the shield. She and Garrus would have to take some time going over the specs and make sure it didn't interfere with their normal shields. The last thing they needed was to solve one problem only to create another. Then again, some would say that's the story of Shepard's life. She rubbed her temple, trying to stave off the headache she felt forming. Seemed like days had passed since she recruited Javik for the mission only this morning. "Leviathan didn't take me over but they did speak to me."

"They did," Ann said. She looked up curiously. "And you didn't feel cold or dark at all when it happened?"

Shepard shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I think that's their signature move when they control you, not just talk to you."

"That's my guess as well," Ann said. She sighed. "I'll feel a lot better once we have the tracker ready and get that artifact out of orbit if it's up there."

"Agreed," Shepard said at once. But her job required her to deal with the 'what ifs.' She needed to be better, to prepare more for those 'what ifs.' Standing in front of a panel where the men and women expected her to magically fix everything when the only words she could muster were 'we fight or we die,' wouldn't cut it anymore.

Every possibility had to be considered and planned accordingly. Even the ones she didn't want to think about, like the idea of an artifact in orbit above Earth. She'd come up with a plan. She and Garrus would come up with a plan.

"Another week, two weeks, hopefully, tops," Ann said.

"Keep me updated," Shepard said. She took a breath and looked at the black console in the middle of the lab. Not exactly the stuff dreams were made of, but it would do. She nodded at Ann. "I should go."

Shepard turned and walked out of the lab. Time to deal with more 'what ifs.'

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to theherocomplex for her beta work! Also, I'm so sorry for the delay in this chapter. Blame holidays and my own little mental block. I'm desperately going to try to get back on the one chapter every five days schedule from here on out.


	13. The Empress, Upright

_**The Empress, Upright:**__ Maternal care and domestic stability. Fertility, security, achievement of goals and growth._

* * *

**Beijing, Chinese People's Federation**

Shepard stepped off the shuttle and felt the humidity in the air seep into her skin. Even with the heat, seeing so many refugees in such tight quarters sent a chill down her spine. The stench of bodily fluids and filth started to overwhelm her. She cursed her sensitive nose and began to walk. Garrus once told her he had grown used to the smell of burning bodies. She never had and part of her hoped she never would.

Everything seemed gray in front of her, the sky, the tents, even the people, clad in gray colony jumpsuits. Shepard's fingers itched to turn off her implants from all the noise around her. Children crying, people yelling at each other, skycars flying overhead.

Such a stark contrast from Cape Canaveral, where the camps were clean and quiet, and people worked together. The lines for water weren't fifty people long like she saw here in Beijing, full of anxious faces, worried there wouldn't be enough water left to fill their bucket. There weren't armed guards standing in front of electric fences protecting the food stores in Cape Canaveral. She didn't see faces full of anger and fear and desperation back in Cape Canvaral.

Shepard brought her hand to her own face, thinking how Hackett had asked her to have the procedure to heal the burns on her face. How he wanted her to look every inch of _Commander Shepard_. She would bring them hope, he said. And she refused, thinking the resources could be spent elsewhere.

Perhaps she made a mistake by deciding to concentrate more on the upcoming mission than her own damn planet. Give her a math equation or a engineering puzzle or a suicide mission. Those were things she could do. Problems she could solve.

This? She had no idea how to fix this. A unscarred face waving merrily at the people below wouldn't fix this. It wouldn't even plaster the surface. These cracks ran too deep.

Hope was an illusion in Beijing.

_Could _Commander Shepard_ bring hope to these people? Could anyone?_

Once upon a time, Beijing was the most sophisticated and glamorous city in the world. But the discovery of the relays meant the wealthy could find a fresh start and they did, setting up colonies on Bekenstein and Terra Nova. Their exodus had left too many people on Earth fighting over too few credits.

And now credits had no value, leaving people to barter for extra food, energy and medicine. Shepard had enough of all three, even to the point of hoarding energy reserves. Looking around at the human and asari faces around her, these people clearly didn't have enough of anything.

Anger swelled in her chest, thinking of the disparity. Shepard took a breath and decided the moment she arrived back in Cape Canaveral, she would schedule the procedure to heal her face. Maybe even cut her hair. No more ponytails, at least. She would hone herself into Commander Shepard again.

It would never be enough, but it would be _something._

A number of asari children ran up to her, hands out, looking for a handout. The asari had set up their largest refugee camp in Beijing; the encampment in Cape Canaveral mainly for matriarchs. The rest spread out, many taking advantage of the depressed situations by setting up strip clubs around the world.

But for those who choose not to dance or didn't want to stay in Cape Canaveral, Beijing became their home. Shepard saw a mixture of both human and asari in the crowded camp. The Reapers hit the city hard. Shepard had been to Beijing once, during N7 training. The skyline had been impressive once. Now hardly any of those buildings still stood.

She wished she had thought to bring some extra ration bars, something, anything to help these kids. Beijing needed another Conrad, someone able to give the orphaned children a cot to sleep in, food for their bellies and a sense of belonging.

Around her, conversations grew louder as people started to stare. Her fingers itched to bring out her concealed pistol just so she could have some breathing room. More children ran up to her, a mix of human and asari faces, all with their hands out. Grubby fingers clutched at her Alliance uniform and Shepard wished she could look behind her to see Garrus at her six. And not just for the sense of security she felt in his presence. In his heavy armor at his height, he made quite the intimidating figure; people moved out of his way almost instinctually.

Shepard expected to meet Samara at the shuttle landing zone but she couldn't see the justicar anywhere. So she kept moving, gently removing small hands from her clothes as she did. Shepard's fingers curled around her pistol, not wanting any of the children to accidentally grab hold of her gun.

The crowd hushed, and Shepard turned her head to see Samara, intimidating in her red and gold armor, walking towards her. The contrast couldn't be more striking; Samara was a burst of color in all the gray.

"Shepard," Samara said, nodding her head, "I apologize for the delay in meeting you."

"Not a problem, Samara," Shepard said, relaxing her fingers slightly. Her trigger finger didn't itch nearly as much now. "Do you know any place we could talk?"

"Of course," Samara said. "Follow me."

They walked in silence through the maze of tents. Shepard had planned on asking why Samara choose to reside here instead of at Cape Canaveral, where her counsel would have been much sought after by the asari. But seeing the conditions here, and knowing Samara always wanted to be where she could do the most good, made the question irrelevant. The justicar belonged here for the time being.

Samara led her to a small tent, covering only a worn sleeping bag. Shepard felt a knot of guilt form in her stomach when she thought of her prefab. It might not have running water but she and Garrus had made it their _home._

"This is where I reside," Samara said. "We may converse here."

Shepard followed Samara's example and sat down on the ground, bringing her knees up to her chest. They might have been in a tent instead of the observation lounge of the _Normandy,_ but Shepard still felt the same sense of calm settle over her as she did whenever she spoke to the justicar.

"I'm going on a mission, Samara," Shepard said, not needing to waste any words with the justicar. "I'd appreciate your help."

Samara crossed her ankles, assuming the meditative pose Shepard had seen so often back on the SR-2. "I am the last justicar, Shepard," Samara said. Shepard saw no sorrow or regret on Samara's face, only truth. "The rest died during the final days of the fight. It is up to me to decide the future of the justicars."

"That's a tall order," Shepard said.

"It is," Samara said. "I need time to think and meditate. A mission… A mission will give me time to do both, and to fulfill my promise to you."

"Samara, you fulfilled your oath when we returned from the Collector Base," Shepard said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. She wanted Samara to join her out of her free will, not because she felt obligated.

"I am aware of that, Shepard," Samara said. "I also promised that I would always be there if you called. I will be there for your mission."

Shepard bit the inside of her cheek. If something were to happen to Samara while on the mission… Could Shepard live with that? Knowing her mission ended an asari tradition which had thrived long before the ancient Greeks?

But Shepard could think of no other pure biotic she trusted to bring along. Jack refused to leave her students and Liara's skills were needed elsewhere. Shepard would simply have to take the risk.

"Would you like details?" Shepard asked, knowing the answer would most likely be no. Samara hadn't wanted to know about the Collectors either.

"Simply tell me when I should be ready to join you and I will be there," Samara said.

"Thank you," Shepard said softly. May she never take for granted the people willing to follow her into hell and out of it again. "How have you been holding up?"

"I worry about my daughter," Samara said. "I have only been able to speak to her a few times since the Reapers were defeated. I believe she is lonely."

"That's understandable," Shepard said.

"I have lived so much of my life alone, there are times I have difficulty remembering the feeling," Samara said. She stood up, putting her hands behind her back. When she spoke again, Shepard heard sadness in Samara's voice. "But better Falere experience a lonely life than one of a fugitive. Perhaps when our mission is complete, I will go visit her."

"You should," Shepard said, standing up next to Samara. She debated putting her hand on Samara's shoulder, but decided against it. Even after all they had been through, the gesture felt too familiar. "Family is so important these days."

"There is something to be said, though, of the family one creates for themselves. Those bonds are just as important," Samara said.

Shepard certainly had no argument for that. In regards to her chosen family, Shepard had fared far better than most. She was damn lucky. "Thank you, Samara," she said, nodding her head. "I'm very glad you'll be on the _Normandy._ You can even have your old space, if you want."

A small smile appeared on Samara's face. "That would please me greatly. I spent many contented hours looking out that window." Samara put her hands behind her back. "Perhaps we will be able to converse occasionally when there is time available."

"I plan on keeping the old routines," Shepard admitted. Her rounds were vital to check the pulse of the crew. "So there will definitely be time."

They walked back to the shuttle with no words said between them, Shepard content with the silence between two friends.

* * *

Shepard tried her damnedest not to think. _Smell the roses, blow out the birthday cake._ All she needed to do was breathe. Don't think. Just breath. She needed to ignore everything around her and simply concentrate on the imaginary goal post in front of her.

Her feet pounded the makeshift track as she continued to run. The weight on her back pinched her skin, causing the muscles to burn. She didn't even know why she had to wear the stupid thing. Shepard carried a pistol and an SMG into combat, not a Black Widow like Garrus. And to add insult to injury, her armor was light, not heavy. She must have pissed off her physical therapist and his chosen method of revenge included torturing her while she ran.

"I'm doing another lap, Shepard!" Garrus yelled over his shoulder.

"Traitor!" Shepard yelled at him. _Smell the damn roses._ Her breathing was heavy, sweat trickling down her brow. Looking ahead, she saw Garrus running easily. Back on the SR-2, it was Shepard who always ran the extra laps while Garrus concentrated on lifting weights. Now, their roles were reversed. Shepard hated the weak feeling left over from her weight loss, her muscles sometimes feeling like deflated balloons. Vanity wise, she simply missed her old body. Shepard had been proud of the muscle definition in her abs and biceps. She wanted them back again. So weight-lifting had became a priority in her work outs. It seemed like such a petty thing to want and work towards, compared to everything else going on. But unlike Beijing yesterday, her body she could fix. Putting the work in would eventually lead her to her goal.

Garrus, on the other hand, worked tirelessly to regain and improve upon his stamina. He always had a bit of an issue of endurance in the field, something Shepard teased him about once, then never again after she saw the crestfallen look on his face. She had resolved right then and there not to say anything unless it affected his squad performance, which it never had. And now he ran hard almost every day instead of the haphazard laps she remembered him taking around the cargo bay on the _Normandy._

The white line was close, so close. Shepard smelled the roses one last time and put forth every bit of energy to crossing the finish line. She knew she should cool down or stretch, but once she stopped running, Shepard threw the weight off her back and plopped onto the grass. Her stomach grumbled; she wouldn't mind a slice of an actual birthday cake. Too bad hers was last month.

Instead, she closed her eyes and waited for the show-off to finish his lap. She didn't nap, just enjoyed the light breeze cooling off her skin. A few minutes later, Garrus collapsed next to her, breathing hard. "That felt good," he said, taking a greedy gulp of air.

Shepard turned on her side and looked at him. Garrus _looked _good. Just the other day he said he was back at a weight he was happy at, so he felt like he could concentrate on bulking up a bit. And a Garrus comfortable with his body made Shepard happy. As for her, Shepard would like to put on another four kilograms, ideally muscle.

Garrus scooted a bit closed and before Shepard could stop him, nuzzled her neck, licking up a bead of sweat. She sat up immediately. "Garrus," she said with a grin, swatting him away. They were in public, he knew better.

"Shepard, we are the only ones at the track," Garrus said, his sub vocals maddeningly low as he reached for her again. "And you're sweaty. I _like_ you sweaty."

Laughing, Shepard kissed Garrus on the mouth plates. "I'll still be sweaty when we get home." She stood up and held out her hands to help him off of the ground.

"Promises, promises," Garrus grumbled as Shepard helped him stand up. He flared his mandibles wide. "Race you there?"

"Oh hell, no," Shepard said, grabbing her water bottle and towel from a nearby bench. "You'll be lucky if I don't take a leisurely stroll." Garrus started to reply, but a priority message on Shepard's omni-tool stopped him. Shepard brought up the interface, wondering what might be needed. She scanned the message and clapped her hands. "You win, Vakarian, we are racing."

"Gonna fill me in?" Garrus asked as they started to jog.

"Wrex. Bakara messaged him. She thinks they're going to hatch within the hour."

Garrus beat her home.

* * *

"Why don't you sit down, Wrex," Shepard said. "I've got water. Even have an extra MRE for the occasion."

Wrex simply shook his head as he continued to pace along the length of their prefab.

"Alright, I think I've got it," Garrus said, handing Wrex his omni-tool. "The connection is as secure as I can make it and that's pretty damn secure."

Slapping the omni-tool on his wrist, Wrex brought up the interface. Shepard could tell nerves made his fingers clumsy. Without being asked, Shepard reached over and opened the communication panel. With a gesture, Shepard enlarged the omni-tool screen and with another flick of her wrist moved the image to the wall.

"Vid calls can still take a while to link up," Shepard warned. "Might as well get comfortable, Wrex."

Wrex nodded and sat down at the dining table. Taking her own advice, Shepard went to the sofa and sat down next to Garrus, leaning in to him. In response, Garrus wrapped his arm around her waist. She didn't mind a bit of affection now, even in front of Wrex. This was a big day. A long awaited day.

Letting out a rumbling sigh, Wrex leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I've committed fifty-seven children to the void, Shepard. I don't know if I can handle sending any more."

Shepard felt Garrus' grip on her waist tighten as she placed her hand on his knee. "Oh Wrex, I'm so sorry."

Wrex waved the apology away. "We burn our dead, even the babies. Every time another one burned, I'd take the ashes out to the Hollows, right to the very spot where my father tried to kill me. That's where I scattered them, left them to rest."

"Other krogan babies have been born already, right?" Shepard asked. Only a few days ago a celebration had broken out in the krogan camp when news of the first child born after the cure had been hatched. Six hours passed before order had been restored.

"But not mine," Wrex said, his voice taunt. He stood up. "Not mine."

He started pacing again, leaving Shepard and Garrus helpless to do anything but watch. She couldn't even begin to think what Wrex might be going through. Patting Garrus' knee, Shepard thought back to their conversation on Earth, about a turian-human baby. She tried to imagine herself pregnant, but stopped at once. Garrus fathering a child of hers was an impossibility. Best not even to think about it. If her trip to Beijing proved anything, adoption was the most unselfish choice they could make.

"How many were there in the clutch?" Garrus asked.

"Eight hundred and eighty-three," Wrex said as he paced. "Thirty-two actually developed enough to become eggs. Bakara thinks three will hatch." His movement stilled and Wrex stared at the vid screen on the wall. "I need something to shoot."

"You and Garrus could go outside," Shepard suggested. "I can wait for-"

"Wrex?"

The vid screen lit up and Bakara stood in a low ceilinged room, her face covered just like the last time Shepard saw her on Tuchanka.

"Bakara?" Wrex said, sounding as frantic as Shepard ever heard. "Any news?"

"Not yet," Bakara said, her voice calm. "It will be soon. Within minutes."

Squeezing Garrus' hand, Shepard went to stand next to Wrex. "Good to see you, Bakara."

"As it is you, Commander," Bakara said. "I'm glad you're able to share this with Wrex."

"Damn relays," Wrex said, kicking a toe to the floor. "I should be there with you."

Shepard studied the vid screen. Bakara was off to the side, standing with another woman, wearing the same traditional shaman garb as Baraka. In the middle of the screen were three eggs, Wrex's children, no bigger than a bowling ball, sitting in a nest of soft fabric. Biting her lip, Shepard looked back at Garrus and waved him over; she wanted to stand next to him for this. Just a moment later, Garrus was there, his arm around her shoulder.

"So those are the hatchlings?" Garrus asked, sounding surprised. He looked at Wrex. "Thought they'd be bigger."

"They grow a great deal during their first year," Bakara said. A sudden crack made everyone in the prefab still. Bakara and the other shaman went to the eggs. As the shaman chanted softly, Bakara gently placed her hands on the egg to the left of the screen. "This will be the first. This will be Mordin."

A tiny red hand punched its way through the top of the egg. Shepard found she couldn't move. Every ounce of energy she had focused on the eggs in front of her. _Please be okay._

A cry pierced the room as the egg on the left broke its head through, fighting its way out of the egg. Then the one of the right started to hatch. A blue leg kicked the shell. And then the two baby krogans seemed to race to see who would be rise out of the egg first.

The middle egg only moved slightly during all of this.

The red krogan won the race then, screaming loudly, like it wanted to go back inside where it was warm. Bakara picked the krogan up and stared at it like she was afraid the baby would disappear. "A girl," she said, her voice cracking. Bakara brought the baby to her chest and looked up at the ceiling. "Mordin."

She handed Mordin to the shaman who immediately started cleaning the baby. Out of its shell, the blue krogan demanded attention, wailing fiercely. Picking the baby up, Bakara said, "Another girl." Shepard could hear the smile in her voice as Bakara clutched the baby, placing her hands on the baby's head. "She will be Solus."

The Shaman took Solus from Bakara, who turned her focus to the middle egg. Taking off her gloves, Bakara placed her hands gently on the egg.

Wrex took a step closer to the vid screen. "Are you sure it'll hatch?" he asked.

"Let us be patient," Bakara said, her voice calm. Behind her, the shaman started a different chant. This one was mournful and Shepard felt it straight in her gut. Needing an anchor, she wrapped her arm just above Garrus' waist and looked up at him. He wasn't staring at the egg, like she had been, but the two wiggling babies off to the side.

A soft cry emitted from the egg. "Fight, little one," Bakara said softly, removing her hands and taking a step back. "Fight."

"What are you doing?" Wrex asked, his voice distraught. "Get her out of there."

Bakara drew in a sharp breath. "The child mustn't have help, you know this, Wrex."

"What's going on?" Garrus asked, his mandibles fluttering nervously.

Wrex clenched his fists and turned away from the screen. "That baby will suffocate in about two minutes if she doesn't hatch."

The only sounds were Mordin and Solus crying in the background while Garrus muttered softly to the Spirits, asking them to watch over the child. For almost thirty seconds, only slight movement rocked the egg. Wrex kept his back to the screen, his head low. Each second felt a year. Shepard wanted to look away; she had seen so much death in her life, she didn't want to add more, not today, not Wrex's child.

_Come on, baby krogan, you can do this._

And then a tan leg punched through the shell. She wanted to cry out in relief, but Bakara didn't look ready to rejoice yet. Seconds passed. An arm appeared. Another leg. Wrex turned back to the screen, his face full of hope. Shepard put her hand on his shoulder, waiting for the little one to finish hatching.

Ten seconds later, it was over. The baby cried out, louder than the other two combined, shaking its fists in the air. Shepard started laughing, too happy to keep anything inside. Garrus kissed her hard on the lips and reached over to shake Wrex' hand. "Congratulations, Papa," he said. Shepard could hear the slight keen in his sub-vocals.

Shepard gripped Wrex's free hand. "You're a father, Wrex."

He nodded, but didn't have any eyes except for the babies on the vid screen.

Bakara raised the child, who still shook its fists. "A boy," she said. "He will be Wreav."

"After Wrex's brother?" Garrus asked, brow plates raised in surprise.

"Wreav died to help fight Kalros," Bakara said, handing Wreav over to the shaman. "Without his sacrifice, we might not have made it to The Shroud." She picked up Mordin, who shared Wrex's color. Looking directly at Wrex through the vidscreen, she said, "Urdnot Wrex, as the father of these children, I offer you right of parentage."

Wrex seemed to stand a little taller. "I accept, Urdnot Bakara," he said, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "I accept."

Bakara and the shaman started feeding the babies. Wrex stared, his face full of awe. After a few moments, he said, "We'll let you go, Bakara. I've probably used up all of their energy reserves for the day."

"We've got extras, Wrex," Shepard said as Garrus pressed his mouth plates to her temple. She normally hated the idea of using their reserves, but for this, she'd go through them all. "You can keep up the link if you want."

"Nah, I'll let them get to work. You'll keep me updated, Bakara?"

"Of course, Wrex," Bakara said, looking down at Solus. "And in less than a month you'll be here yourself."

"Congratulations, Bakara," Shepard said. "Looks like your hands will be full."

"At last they will be, Commander. At last they will be."

Wrex nodded one last time and ended the vid call. "I have children, Shepard," he said slowly. "Children who will never have to experience the pain of the genophage, thanks to you."

Shepard had to wipe away a tear threatening to spill down her cheek. Hard to believe she'd ever feel grateful to the Reapers for _anything_, but she could admit she felt gratitude for this moment. The krogan may have never gotten their cure if not for the invasion. It didn't make up for the loss and devastation everywhere, but it was the beginning of hope. _Thank you, Mordin._ "Thanks to a lot of people, Wrex."

He put his hand on Shepard's shoulder. "Agreed," he said. Then slamming his fists together, he added, "Bah, that's enough of the sentimental crap. Let's drink."

"I thought you were supposed to belch out the names of your children when you were drunk," Garrus said. "Seems like Bakara's already gone ahead and named your babies for you, Wrex."

"Maybe I'll give them two names, like humans do," Wrex said, following Garrus into the kitchen. "Let's see what we can come up with."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Many thanks to theherocomplex for her beta work!


End file.
